The Lazarus Game
by theramblingsofjoan
Summary: Ciel Payne doesn't want any trouble, but trouble finds him in the form of the enigmatic, inexpressibly irritating Alois Truman. Fate seems to be very insistent that they end up stuck together, and for both of their sakes, they intend to find out why. Resurrection/modern day setting, M mainly for eventual violence
1. The Drawings in the Back of the Book

**Okay, so first story! The idea very much popped out of nowhere at the end of the summer, and I didn't get organized enough to do this until now, but I hope you like it. I like to think that its kind of continuing what the second season did by taking characters that very much ought to be dead and making them go on more adventures.**

The blond boy was starting to irritate Ciel. All he could see of him was the back of his head, as he was seated squarely in front of him, but everything about him was driving Ciel completely and utterly to distraction. And why? For a start, he had spent the whole class humming some unidentifiable tune under his breath, so quiet that it would be more trouble than it was worth to tell him to stop, but just loud enough that it was impossible to keep from hearing him. He had sprawled backwards onto Ciel's desk more than once like he owned the place, and his absurd high voice was much better than nails on a chalkboard for sending him spiralling into a bad mood. All in all, Lois Truman was an immensely irritating little wretch.

Ciel smiled a little. "Wretch." That book they were reading for class had taught him that word. He liked it immensely. Less liked was the word "Lois." What kind of a name was that for a proper boy anyway, girlish as the blond was? Ciel knew that with a name like, well, Ciel, he wasn't one to judge; that said, the only thing reason he could think of for Lois to so cheerfully introduce himself as he did had to be because it was a nickname. But that was another source of irritation. What kind of name produced a short form like Lois? He'd probably heard it on the first day's roll call, but he hand't known to pay attention at the time.

Ciel watched him lazily pick at his cuticles before he shook his attention back to the droning teacher at the front of the room. Really, the most irritating thing about the boy was the fact that he was so easily stealing Ciel's attention. He had bigger problems than him.

"…So, the mitochondria are the— Yes, Lois?" the teacher cut herself off partway through her speech upon noticing Lois' hand stretched up to the sky. Ciel looked up, and then very deliberately looked down.

"May I go to the loo?" he said sweetly. Frankly, just saying that was an understatement. The whole of his voice was just crammed with sugar, and it wouldn't even bother Ciel —it seemed to come with the territory, with Lois' pretty face— if it didn't seem so _fake_.

"Couldn't have it have waited, Lois?" the teacher said with a hint of exasperation. Ciel hadn't bothered to learn her name when he had the whole rest of the year to do that, but he didn't blame her with her irritation. Three days in, and Ciel was already going bonkers from the company he had to keep. The teacher wasn't even a teenager herself, so for her, he was sure it was probably doubly annoying. He respected teachers. They had a lot more to put up with than most. He respected anyone in that position really, one of picking up the people underneath them and bringing them up to their level, and compensating for the things a person didn't yet know. Teachers, of course, but educators of any sort; coaches and instructors, caretakers and butlers. People with more patience than it was worth having genuinely caught his interest, which was an ironic frustration considering he doubted if he could ever be one of them.

Lois tilted his head back, which Ciel had learned meant he was giving another of those sickening smiles.

"I don't want to waste any more time, I suppose. But if I've caused trouble asking anyway, can I go?" he asked. The teacher blinked in confusion —who'd expect a stupid kid to reason like _that_?— but she sighed and nodded.

"Fine. Be quick, and don't interrupt the class when you come back."

"Okay!"

Lois got up without any effort to be quiet and Ciel had to admit that it had been a snappy piece of work. The teacher wouldn't go for the same trick twice, no sir, but Ciel wished he'd thought of it himself.

With a desk at the front of the class and a door at the back, the shortest way out for Lois was around and past Ciel. He ducked low on to of his books when he passed, but even without looking up, it didn't take long to notice someone hanging over Ciel. Lois was right there, looking at Ciel's book, looking at the page that Ciel had saturated with doodles. As soon as they both realized what was happening, Ciel slammed his book shut and Lois practically sprinted out of the classroom. Ciel tried to think that he would have come up with some appropriately withering retort to make him back off, but he had to admit, as he watched the blond go flapping out the door in a blazer too big for his skinny frame, that he was shaken. Forget irritating. Having him hanging overhead like some sort of pale overgrown bat was downright creepy.

He hesitantly opened his book back to where he'd had it. He knew he should have been taking notes, and the teacher showed no sign of stopping again unless someone wanted to imitate Lois, but thus far, Ciel had mostly just let his mind wander, and scratchy drawings cover his book. As far as Ciel was concerned, there was nothing interesting at all in the margins of the loose-leaf. What had caught Lois' eye could have been anything, but Ciel still had an idea what. It was just a stupid pentagram thing, and he had been staring at it like it was going to jump out and bite him.

Ciel absentmindedly went over the lines, staring more at the teacher than his book for once. He didn't even need to look when it was familiar to him. Just a default to scratch into the page, tricky enough that it couldn't bore him and simple enough that he could do it over and over. Ordinary, even if some might call it satanic.

He smiled a little to himself. Demonic symbols, what a joke. Lois was probably just religious.

He lightly traced one more circle. Lois shuffled back into the classroom and didn't look down again, but Ciel didn't try to hide it. It would _almost_ be funny.

"Oi, Payne!" came a saccharine voice from behind Ciel. The dark haired boy turned to see a blond one, waving for his attention, still in that ridiculous oversize blazer. Ciel knew he could get one his own size, being a public school student same as him and wearing a uniform for their trouble. So why the glorified hand-me-down?

Apparently, Ciel had been staring too long.

"Hello," Lois said emphatically, still waving his hands like a windmill. "Ciel Payne, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you. It's hard not to," Ciel snorted. Half the cafeteria could likely hear. "What do you want?"

"I'm tired of sitting alone. Sit with me," he said plainly. It didn't read like a proper request, and Ciel bristled.

"Why on earth would I want to sit with you?"

"I've seen you around. You don't have anyone else to sit with," he shrugged.

"Maybe I like sitting by myself! Peace and quiet!"

"Humour me, then," he said.

Ciel's better judgement screamed against it, but he couldn't think of any excuse he could give that would make Lois leave him alone. He groaned internally.

"Fine," Ciel spat. "Only for today, though. Then, would you leave me alone?"

"I've barely even talked to you before today," Lois pointed out, the picture of innocence.

"Well. No need to start now," Ciel said under his breath. But he dragged his feet over, and Lois lit up. A cheap light bulb, a garish neon flash, but at least the boy was happy.

The two of them sat down at a table that was empty, and stayed that way. They ignored each other for so long that it was almost comical, picking at food that they mutually didn't feel like eating and staring steadfastly at fake wood. It was only after Ciel popped open a container with a small cake in it that Lois seemed to feel it necessary to break the silence.

"That's an impressive amount of sugar you have there," he said, gesturing mainly at the cake, but also at the abundance of fruit and sweet drinks. Even the main course was pork that dripped in redcurrant jelly. Ciel sighed, and still didn't look up.

"I like my sweets. What of it?" he said to the table.

"Exactly what I said. I'm impressed," Lois drawled. For reasons he couldn't quite figure out, the silken, glib tones under the innocent words made his skin crawl. He regretted agreeing to sitting down at all. No, even 'sitting' didn't feel like the right word. 'Pinned down' felt better.

Ciel hated feeling trapped.

"What do you want, Lois? I don't want to hear about wanting to be friends, and I know you're just dying to say it. I don't want to try my luck with you, and I'm going to say that much outright because I feel like my being polite won't do any good with you."

"You're getting warmer. Keep going, I like this game," Lois said indifferently. Ciel froze a little, but ploughed through.

"Alright, I'm guessing this is about the thing in the classroom, and I don't know why it still matters. If you're going to take the piss out of me for satanism or some other rubbish that I drew, I'll hear it now and be done with it. But you don't strike me as all that religious, so out with it. What do you want?"

Blue eyes finally wrenched themselves up from the table to meet lighter ones of the same colour, and if he were thinking entirely rightmindedly, he'd have looked straight back down. The word someone more romantic would have used to describe Lois' eyes would be 'icy,' and maybe Ciel would have used that word himself under the right circumstances. Under _these_, the coldness of the blond boy's eyes ceased to matter in the face of how undeniably hungry they looked. Ciel felt himself start to break out into a cold sweat, but he wouldn't look away. Or perhaps, couldn't. He hated himself for being so easily spooked. But what could he do? Even as he watched, Lois broke into a grin that looked like a crack in his face and Ciel felt his skin crawl even more.

"_You_," he said gently. It would have been better if he'd said it with any sort of venom.

"What kind of an answer is that?" Ciel shouted, much louder than he meant to. Anyone nearby turned to look at the source of the noise. Lois' smile just widened.

"You're interesting. Those drawing were especially interesting," Lois continued, like Ciel hadn't attracted anyone's attention.

"Stop it. This is ridiculous, and you're out of your mind. And 'm not showing you anything I've drawn. Your craziness, whatever this is, is a little too much for me to handle right now. So, if you'll excuse me," Ciel said quickly, moving to gather his things. Lois stared blankly until Ciel moved to get up, and then, faster than he looked, he grabbed his hand.

"What the hell? Let go of me!" Ciel shouted, wrenching it back. Lois gazed at him, hungry as ever

"Let me waste two more minutes of your time, Ciel," Lois insisted. "I never wanted to see anything of yours anyway, I promise. I just want to show you something of mine, one amateur to another."

Ciel wasn't sure what made him sit back down. In retrospect, he tried to blame it on the stares of the entire student body, something that was much better than anything physical at restricting his movement, but in all likelihood, it was his own curiosity. He wouldn't admit out loud to wanting to know why Lois was going to so much trouble, but he knew on the inside that it was compelling enough to make him listen.

"I hope you understand how creepy that answer was?" Ciel asked as he sat down.

"It doesn't matter whether I do or not when I don't care either way," he shrugged. Ciel wondered absently whether hitting strangling would get him a better answer.

Lois looked over his shoulder like someone might be watching and Ciel let out a snort. Who cared? Who could possibly care? Still, Lois pulled a notebook, already ragged after three days, from his backpack and flipped backwards.

"While we're chatting, I noticed you draw on the back pages too. Smart. We're clever enough not to let people see as much as they could unless its an accident like earlier. That isn't the point, though, but we're so clever you already knew that," Lois said through another smile. He propped the book up and tapped a fingernail on a ballpoint pen drawing of an intricate star and circle.

"So, you draw pentagrams as well? Is that it?" Ciel said, although he already felt a little apprehensive. The stars were all over the page, and the remaining scribbles made clear that the boy had a talent for old fashioned clothing, both of which were distressingly familiar.

"Well, only if you consider _this_ something to get excited about," Lois said, moving his finger deliberately down the page. With a jolt, Ciel recognized a familiar spiked ring. Even the nonsensical little symbols in the gaps around the star, something he only rarely bothered with and didn't understand, were perfect down to every line.

"What the—? How did you—?" Ciel sputtered.

"It's yours, right? I drew this in maths on the first day, two hours before the first class in which we were less than three desks away from each other in any direction," Lois said, smiling a little at Ciel's discomfort.

"I don't believe you," Ciel said. He hated the way his tone made it all too clear how much he did believe the other boy's words. He didn't want to look back in those still-hungry eyes of Lois', but looking at everyone else was worse. For lack of anything better, his eyes strayed onto the paper, where he got a better look at Lois' preferred design. For the second time in that many minutes, he felt a jolt of recognition. Cursing his own infinitely rotten luck for attracting the madman of the school, Ciel pulled his own personal sketchpad out of his bag. This was something he had never intended to do in the presence of anyone else, much less on that of Lois, and he flipped through it irritably regardless. Finding what he wanted, he slapped it on the table.

"Just who the hell are you?"

Lois stared at the star that matched the pencil on his schoolbook down to a T.

"Even orange," he muttered, before shaking his head. "In answer to your question, I'm Alois Truman, same as ever. I think it's safe to say I should know that. But I think this concerns something neither of us know."

**Yeah, so in retrospect, for those who have seen this already, I probably should have posted these writers comments right when I published the story, but as I have hopefully ****already made clear, I am not an organized human being. Anyway, all I wanted to say is that, in British English, "public school" is what American Engligh calls a private school, so in case it wasn't clear, Alois Truman does have money.**


	2. Grey Laughter and Classical Music

**A bit of a longer chapter this time, switching to Alois' point of view. Expect some more familiar faces this time around, and a big thank you for the favourites on the first chapter. I really appreciate it. **

Alois drummed his fingers on his desk, bored to all hell. Of course, that was nothing unusual, but usually he could snap himself out of it and distract himself easily enough. Today, on the other hand, doodling was making him feel anxious, and a wandering mind just left him thinking about things better left alone.

Ciel had run off after their rather unpleasant conversation the previous day, practically tripping over himself to get away, and it had left Alois with a twist in his stomach. He liked frightening people, and in retrospect, it had become a bit of a habit. But he felt bad when he actually scared them off. And truth be told, he was scared too, dammit!

_I don't want to do this all by myself,_ he thought rather irritably, stabbing a dot for an _i_ and putting a hole in the page.

"Truman? How about you?" the teacher interrupted his thoughts amicably. Alois hadn't bothered to learn his name yet.

"Eh?"

Wrong answer

"Wake up, boy!" the man said, snapping his fingers in his face and letting go of every illusion of kindness.

"Yessir!"

"Do you understand what's going on?"

Alois opened his mouth to say yes, but when he glanced over at the board, all that he could get out was a strained sort of groan. He heard the rest of the classroom giggle, and he even surprised himself with how angry he was. Left to his own devices, for that one second, he was sure he could have snapped someone's neck.

"Not in the slightest, sir," Alois finally said. He kept his tone as serious as his thoughts, but he decided to forgo caution and flash everyone's favourite smile. There were a few scattered laughs, but they were nervous before they were amused, like they didn't know whether it was appropriate to even be laughing at all. Even the nameless teacher looked briefly shaken before he started grumbling into his moustache.

"Stop mucking around, Truman. I'd put you on the board, but I think you're only going to cause more trouble. Pay. Attention."

Alois' face burned with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. That incompetent bastard had no right to single him out that way, and he knew it. Alois knew his type. They needed a punching bag for the year, but before all that, he needed someone to make an example of. And how dare he make it out of Alois.

He watched the teacher while the rest of the man's victims scribbled out one equation or the other. Alois liked maths, found it relatively simple, but if this man intended to make an enemy out of him, it'd be his loss.

The man looked over from the board and back at Alois. He flashed him a smile again. He had lots of smiles. He had nice ones, but other people didn't see them often. He didn't let them. And he had a lot that were much more frightening than most of his attempts to look conventionally scary. Alois had sent that Ciel running with it, and he was made of much sterner stuff than the teacher.

The thought of Ciel made the smile slide off of his face. Instantly, the foul mood that had played on the edges of his boredom earlier descended on him like a shroud. Feeling like he was getting over with the inevitable, he started lightly pencilling a familiar circle and star. It all came so naturally, and he couldn't put his finger on why. His mother had nearly put him in therapy when she saw his sketchbooks, and he knew the 'devil crap' had amounted for at least half of it. He didn't need therapy, he needed someone to explain what was going on.

He scribbled out the one he was working on and replaced it with Ciel's. He had drawn it himself, of course, at least a few times, so it wasn't really just Ciel's, but he already thought of it as his. And the orange one was his own, and the blue one too. Just not the purple one.

Of course, that made so much sense.

_My God, am I going crazy?_

It wasn't necessarily unlikely. The notebook hadn't been the first threat of therapy.

He groaned and scribbled again. There had to have been something in common. Some movie they'd seen, some book they'd read. Ciel had clearly liked his gothic fashion when he wasn't drawing seals. It had probably been some awful old Victorian book.

Wait a minute, seals? Now why would he call them that?

He scribbled it out again.

"Good lord," he muttered. "I really am going mad."

He looked around, but he didn't think anyone had heard. If they had, they wouldn't disagree.

Alois made a straight line for Ciel after the day ended, and Ciel looked ready to run a mile in the other direction.

"Stay away from me, Alois!" he shouted. He wouldn't look Alois in the eye, wouldn't turn around.

"Please don't go! I just want to talk to you."

"We talked already! I don't want to do it again!" he insisted, louder. Heads were turning, and he didn't think he cared.

"I'm sorry! Please!"

Absurdly, he could feel and hear desperation creeping into his voice. He didn't care. He didn't care. But he even felt a lump in his throat.

Ciel stared in confusion for a moment, and then, with an air of reprimanding himself, he walked over. Very slowly.

"You truly are pathetic, aren't you? _Tell_ _me_ you aren't crying."

"How dare you! Why would I be crying?" Alois spat, reflexively going to anger. Ciel stopped short and didn't get any closer than a meter away. His hands were raised slightly, as if he expected to be hit, and his face showed a mixture of apprehension and disdain.

"You tell me. Between the two of us, I think you're the nutter of the group."

"And what if I am? Have you considered that?" he said furiously. "Why do you think I'm so interested in the precious Ciel Payne? It's hardly your scintillating personality."

Ciel tutted and rolled his eyes, but at least he was listening. Alois wasn't going to let him go.

"I'd be perfectly content to leave you in your own self-inflicted loneliness, and don't you deny it, but I don't fancy the concept of losing my mind. I doubt you like that idea either. Your drawings are making me question myself, and I don't enjoy it. So put up with me until I make sure it's nothing more than a coincidence, or I'll become considerably nastier," Alois rattled off, taking advantage of his superior height to walk over to and lean over the smaller boy. He stared straight into dark blue eyes, stared much more directly than most people were comfortable with, and he was pleased to find Ciel holding the stare. He wasn't sure whether he hated him or not yet, but he liked the steel in him quite independently of him as a person.

Eventually, Ciel shoved him away and treated him to a sneer.

"I think I can handle your nastiness, Alois, because I _don't_ care. And even if I did, I can't \ talk right now either way," Ciel said.

"Why not?"

"Because unlike you, apparently, I have a life! And it's rather busy and full of things that I can't just skive off so I can chat with madmen!"

"Oh," was all Alois said, feeling foolish. Truth be told, he had a few days of homework he should have been doing himself, but in the face of an existential crisis, he had forgotten about it.

Ciel rolled his eyes again. Alois decided he hated the gesture.

"'Oh,' indeed. Now, if you'll excuse me," Ciel huffed. He turned tail and began walking, and Alois walked too.

"Are you stalking me now, too?"

"No."

"Then stop following me."

"I will if you really want, I promise. But I swear that I have nothing better to do, and this isn't malicious or creepy. Really. Where is it you're going?" Alois asked. It wasn't really lying in his books.

"Why on earth would I tell _you_?"

"Go out on a limb. You're as scared as I am," Alois said with a shrug. He wasn't even sure if this was a good idea. "Do something crazy."

Ciel groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked absurd with his long bangs tousled and sticking up, and Alois wanted to laugh at him.

"I'm going to violin lessons. _Hopefully_ alone. I am going to be driven to 110 Parlour Street, a music shop that's going to be very easy for you to miss because it's the pinnacle of normal society. _You_ might not even be able to notice it," Ciel sneered. "Lucky for you, it's next to a dingy old funeral home. Appropriately macabre, I'm sure. I know you can't drive, and it's not close this school, about twenty minutes by car and considerably longer on the tube. If I see you there, Alois, I'm going to punch you in the face, but other than that, consider this an open invitation."

"I'll consider it, then," Alois promised. Ciel's disdainful sneer shifted into a tight lipped scowl, and he walked away.

"What an odd thing to say," Alois said, voicing aloud what occurred to him quite suddenly. He was shocked that Ciel still wanted anything to do with him, if you could go as far as saying that. But it could be worse.

Alois hadn't ever ridden on the Underground before. That had been fun. And it had been boring enough that he had gotten some homework done. He was surprised with himself, although he was sure he would have gotten more done if it hadn't been so damnably crowded. The number of times he'd had to shove someone away had been astounding. He didn't need much personal space, and he'd been told enough times that he had a tendency to invade others', but that didn't mean he enjoyed being touched by strangers.

Alois tried to imagine Ciel putting up with the crowd on the tube. He didn't think he would handle it too well. The boy seemed to have some sort of phobia of being touched himself. Alois hadn't tested that boundary much, but Ciel even got angry when he leaned back a little over his desk.

The clouds didn't let in any more than the usual amount of light when Alois had cleared the stairs, but after the Underground, it was blinding. It was also a lot more walking than he was used to. It took fifteen long minutes of walking in circles to even find the right street, and he realized quickly that he was on the wrong end of it. It seemed even longer with the scenery. It wasn't a fancy part of town, but it wasn't run-down either, or even interesting. It just didn't seem to be anything specific at all.

The violin shop was like the rest of the street. Nondescript, quiet, and as normal as promised. The 'dingy funeral home' was the precise opposite. It looked older than anything else around it, a crumpled piece of black paper shoved between two larger boxes. More concerning was the man in front of the building, sitting on a wire chair that looked too rickety to hold him and reading a book with a cover as black as everything else around it. Whether he was an old man, and he just looked good for his age, or a young one with prematurely or dyed grey hair, Alois couldn't tell, but whatever the hair was, there was a lot of it. It hung in a messy fringe in various lengths all around and over his face, with one of the particularly long bits in a plait and an old fashioned wide-brimmed fedora pulled low over his face to cap it all off. His clothes were all black, and punkish to boot, and the scrappy effect was heightened by the scars that roped around most of his skin. Most disconcerting were the nails; overlong, gnarled, and black.

Alois must have been staring for a long time, because the man looked up. He tried to hold the stare confidently, but a squeak escaped his throat and his heart pounded. The grey-haired man's face split into a crooked smile as his eyes lit up with something akin to recognition, and he started laughing hysterically. Terror flipped straight into rage, and Alois drew himself up.

"Oh? And what the hell's so funny?" Alois shouted over to him. He only laughed harder, actually wiping tears out of his eyes from laughing so hard. Alois had only ever seen people do that on bad television.

"What an arse," Alois muttered under his breath. He turned to leave, but he heard a painful shriek of metal as the man got up.

"What do you want now?" he groaned.

"Nothing," he leered. He was walking over to Alois distressingly fast. "It's just that, dear sir, I'm a fan of comedy. A connoisseur, if you will. And I've never seen so much of a farce as—"

"As me? Piss off, creep!" Alois shouted. The man collapsed into giggles all over again, actually staggering over to the fence to hold himself up.

"Alois?" came a familiar voice from behind him. Alois turned around and caught a glimpse of Ciel's face before a fist collided with his jaw. He stumbled backwards, but it was more surprise than anything else. Ciel looked a lot more hurt than he was.

"Clearly you make good on your word," said Alois, rubbing his jaw. Ciel gave him a murderous look and cradled his hand like he'd hurt himself.

"I promised, didn't I?" he growled.

"Indeed," Alois nodded. He rocked back and forth on his feet and put up with Ciel's glare for another moment or so before the raven-haired boy actually addressed the situation.

"You actually came. You actually went on the tube, or walked, or whatever, just to follow me," Ciel said in disbelief.

"Technically, I stayed at the school for an hour getting work done, and then I decided to go on the tube because I hadn't ever been on it before and I missed my window to have my mother drive me home after an hour waffling whether to show up. You were an excuse to not get her mad," Alois listed off. Ciel just shook his head and groaned. He tried to rub his eye with the inside of his arm, awkward with one hand sore and the other clutching a violin case.

"Brilliant. Am _I_ going to have to drive you home?" he grumbled.

"Probably not. Not unless _you_ want me there," Alois said sweetly. Ciel visibly shuddered.

"Not on your life. So what now?" Ciel asked. "What did you intend to do here?"

"I was going to see whether you would talk to me yet, but you still seem to be pretty angry, so I don't think that's going to happen. You play the violin?"

"Obviously."

"Okay," Alois said. He glanced back over at the grey-haired man. He had made it back to his book, but still giggling softly to himself.

"What's the matter with Scarface, there?" Alois asked, jerking a thumb in his direction. Ciel laughed a little himself. It was unnatural on him, but Alois figured he liked it better than the perpetual scowl.

"He's always like that. Laughed himself half to death the first time I showed up here, until Sebastian scared him off," he shrugged.

"Sebastian?"

"Violin instructor. Undertaker doesn't like him much."

"Doesn't he have a name?"

"If he does, I don't know it. You'd do well to stay away from him, but at the end of the day, he's harmless," Ciel said. He fidgited, but he didn't seem like he was going ask him to leave.

"Would you play for me?" Alois asked, surprising himself with his own abruptness. Ciel stared at his violin case like he had forgotten it was there.

"Will you leave me alone if I do?" he asked, warning tones.

"Maybe," Alois shrugged. Ciel looked around at nothing in discomfort until his glare made its way back onto Alois.

"I certainly won't do it out here," he sniffed. "And _certainly_ not in front of _him._"

Undertaker didn't hear the slight, but Alois wondered whether it was a good idea to talk so loudly.

"Are we allowed to go back into the shop? Mr. Sebastian whatever won't mind?"

"The bastard won't care much either way, I don't think," Ciel said dismissively.

"You're not fond of him?"

"I think he's fine. He's just either overbearing or indifferent, without much of an in between. Usually the second one, hence then not caring bit."

"So you'll play for me?"

"For God's sakes. _Fine_," Ciel said. "One song."

"And it would be my _pleasure_ to hear it," Alois grinned. Ciel shuddered again and turned to walk into the store. Undertaker started laughing again as they walked away.

Alois caught sight of an advertisement for violin lessons as they walked in, but Ciel walked too fast to stay and read. The shop was cramped and empty of anyone except Ciel, Alois, and a tall man behind the counter who Alois guessed had to be Sebastian. Alois had to stop for a second. Violin teachers, to his mind, tended to be nebbish older people. Sebastian was young, with a handsome face and shaggy black hair to top it all off. Just looking at him made Alois' stomach flip, although he didn't think it was just the looks. He made him nervous.

But, he smiled good-naturedly at the sight of the two of them.

"You forgot something?" he asked. Deep voice, pleasant tones.

"Not really. Never mind," Ciel muttered. "We still empty here?"

"My next lesson isn't for a while, now. What do you need the room for, though?"

"Chuckles here wants me to play," he said, still not looking at Alois. Thanks to that, Sebastian blinked in confusion.

"Undertaker?" he asked. Ciel bristled.

"What? No! It's Blondie here," Ciel specified. "Alois Truman."

Ciel jerked a thumb at him, and Alois gave an appropriately impudent smile. Sebastian narrowed his eyes briefly, but he smiled back.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Truman. I'm Sebastian Michaels."

"Just Lois, please. Ciel, you too. I don't like my name much. But it's nice to meet you, too, Mr. Michaels."

"If I'm on a first name basis with you, then you can call me Sebastian if you want," Sebastian said, turning around to put something in a drawer. "You here to hear Ciel?"

"If he'll do it. I think I've angered him quite a bit so far today," Alois admitted. Sebastian laughed.

"That doesn't surprise me one bit. This little princess here here has an impressive temper," Sebastian smirked, ruffling Ciel's hair. His face went bright red, and Ciel could only gasp, he was so angry.

"You have _that_ right," Alois said, feeling giggly himself.

"Why you— how dare— I'm—" Ciel sputtered. Sebastian bowed in mock humility.

"My apologies. I was unaware the princess doesn't like that title. I am _so_ sorry my lord. Please forgive me," Sebastian said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Ciel wasn't quite as angry, but he still looked just as upset.

"Don't call me that. It makes me uncomfortable," he said firmly. "Do you want to hear me play, Alois, or not?"

"Please. I'm sorry," he said. "But I thought I told you to call me Lois?" He fiddled with zipper on his jacket and felt oddly uncomfortable.

"I will if you insist. But if it's worth anything, Alois seems to suit you much better," Ciel replied, sounding equally disenchanted with the idea of ever speaking again.

"I insist," Alois said, but he didn't think he minded so much anymore. He hopped up onto the counter and sat where he could lean over Ciel.

Sebastian seemed amused by the conversation.

"Just _look_ at how grown-up you're being, _my lord_," he said mockingly.

"Oh, good. I have a _nickname_ now," Ciel groaned, rubbing his temples. "I knew it was a mistake to introduce the two of you."

"God knows you earned yourself some some sort of eternal torment," Sebastian snarked.

"So it'd seem. Seriously, though, I don't like it. And I definitely don't want to hear it now. I just want to play so I can go home!"

"Then get on with it, Ciel!" Alois said cheerfully. "Right here is fine, too. I'm comfortable."

Ciel stared incredulously at Alois, but he shook his head and undid the snaps on his violin case.

The violin was beautifully crafted, but the notes it made were better. Ciel Payne was no natural —that much was abundantly clear— but he could navigate a song beautifully when he put his mind to it. Alois didn't know enough about classical music to recognize the song, but he was almost sad when it was over.

"There. Are you satisfied?" Ciel asked when it was over, although it seemed the four minutes had cleared away the last of his bad temper. Alois opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the ever-cheerful Sebastian.

"You need to work on your tempo, Ciel. But other than that, I've never seen you play that piece so well," he said. "So overall, I'm very satisfied. Do you know what I think?"

"I didn't ask _you_, Sebastian."

"I think you're better when you're being competitive. When you're trying to impress someone," Sebastian continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"Why would I—never mind. Lois, I've had enough of you, but I'll still give you a ride home if you want it," Ciel said. Alois shrugged.

"This place is a long ways off from the school, but a lot less from my house. I'll brave it on the street, I think."

Ciel drew himself up and put the violin back in the case.

"Good," he said, although Alois would have bet real money he was indifferent after all. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lois. Hopefully under more _normal_ circumstances."

"Ok. And Ciel?"

"What _now_?"

"You can call me Alois if you want. You're right. With you, at least, it sounds a lot more natural."

Impulsivity was the only reason he bothered to say it then and there, but at least it reduced the hostility of the departure. In any case, Ciel nodded wordlessly and left with about the usual amount of dignity. As soon as he was out the door, Sebastian moved with surprising speed over to the window.

"What, are you watching him leave?" Alois scoffed, although he had done similar things that day.

"I'm just watching Undertaker. It's been a long day, and I don't want to have to deal with him again," Sebastian said, still peering out the window over his spectacles. Alois swung his feet back and forth as he watched Sebastian watch the street, until he sighed and walked back over with his hands in his pockets.

"Between you and me, Lois, the two of them are going to be the death of me," Sebastian complained, rubbing his temples.

"You're not fond of him?" Alois asked, hoping he'd understand that he meant the grey haired man and not Ciel. Regardless of the fact that he was a thin, mild-mannered violin instructor who probably hadn't exercised since he picked up the instrument, Sebastian was at least a head taller than him.

"I wouldn't go that far, but he unnerves me for certain. On top of that, I don't have many students. It'd be a shame for something to happen to any of them, but Ciel in particular worries me for some reason. The fact that he picked you up somehow just drives home how good he is at poking his nose into trouble."

"What do you mean by that!" Alois said indignantly. Sebastian gave a slight, humourless laugh.

"Nothing. I've just never seen anyone get under his skin so well, but somehow you managed to make good enough friends with him that he played the violin for you. He hasn't done that before with anyone," Sebastian explained shortly. "Tea?"

"No thank you. You run this shop by yourself?"

Alois wanted the subject changed. The only one Ciel had played for? Indeed.

"More or less by myself, yes. I have help, although the three of them tend to cause more trouble than they solve, but they're all part-time. Thursdays are lessons-only, so I don't need any help."

"Ah," Alois nodded, but he didn't get down. Sebastian walked over with a styrofoam cup of tea that he hadn't asked for and put it down where Alois could reach it.

He did want it.

"I don't know what's going on between you two, and I know it isn't my place to ask, but I'll have you know that if you get him in trouble, _I'm_ the one you'll need to worry about," Sebastian declared. Alois felt all the blood drain from his face and he took a big, scalding gulp of the tea.

"You're awful fond of him for his violin teacher."

"Maybe. He's a good kid, works a lot harder than anyone that I know of. And he doesn't have a lot of people to _be _fond of him, so I think my caretakerly affections aren't misplaced."

"I _think_ I can understand that," Alois said. Sebastian smiled a little broader.

"I'm not keeping you, am I?" he asked.

"I probably should go," Alois said, although he couldn't quite remember why he was leaving

"Then I'll let you go, Lois. I'm a hell of a violin teacher, if I do say so myself, but clearly I'm less of a conversationalist."

Sebastian started over to a rack of relatively cheap bows with a polishing cloth and Alois got down, taking the tea with him.

"You can call me Alois too. If you want," Alois mumbled, not realizing what he was saying until the words were out of his mouth. Sebastian raised an eyebrow, but he nodded.

"If you say so, Alois."

"Oh," Alois said in a cracked voice. He'd half expected to have to explain himself and had come up with a half-dozen half-arsed explanations to go with it. He walked to the door much more awkwardly than he had meant to.

"One more thing?" he added, his hand on the doorknob.

"What's that?"

"Have you ever seen any symbols like _this_?" Alois asked, pulling the troublemaking notebook out of his bag and almost spilling tea on it. "Like, in a book or a movie or something?"

Sebastian stared a little.

"No, I don't think— wait. The little one, maybe. I don't know where," Sebastian said, his voice barely above a mutter. His eyes looked strained and far-away. He was pointing at the spiked one in the corner, and Alois' stomach flipped. Ciel's pentagram, not his.

"Why do you ask, Alois?"

"No reason!" he answered, a little too quickly. "I'm just trying to remember where I saw it before. It's nothing."

Sebastian made a strange face with an emotion on it that Alois couldn't quite place. Concern? Confusion? Alois would have said something, but the expression passed, and Sebastian quietly said, "goodbye, Alois."

"Goodbye, Sebastian."

The grey-haired man was gone when Alois stepped outside, but Alois fancied he could still hear him laughing.

**Thoughts, anyone? I really should go for more consistency when it comes to chapter lengths, but they won't all be like this. I have a plot, but I _am_ sort of writing as I go. I'm also going to try and keep the updates as consistent as I can when I'm writing this as such.**

**Last off, this story is centred around Alois and Ciel, and they're the only two who are going to get POVs, but for ****the Sebastian fans out there, of whom I know there are a lot (me too, XD) Sebastian is very much meant to be a third main character. **


	3. Of Siblings, Lunatics and Chess

**Alright, update! As ever, thank you for the faves, and I hope you enjoy it!**

Ciel wouldn't talk to Alois again for the next week, but it wasn't for a lack of trying on either of their parts. He didn't try to bring it up outright —he knew better by then— but good God, did he try. He would have even settled for a normal conversation, and twice he even managed that before he managed to cock it up and scare Ciel off again. He cursed his own lack of social skills and brought himself to tears at school twice, which of course, only alienated everyone more and made him angrier with himself. Ciel was treating him like a freak, and he neither blamed nor disagreed with him, but he loathed it all the same. The more Ciel wanted nothing to do with him, the more Alois wanted to talk to him. He felt like he was going crazy, and the rest of the school could tell. They avoided him accordingly, and then Ciel started doing it too.

Alois hated him equally as much as he would admit to obsessing over him. He hated that he had encountered the one person in the school who could set him off so much, and it was a lot easier to blame the black-haired boy for all this trouble. All the while, he looked in every old, creepy book the library had to try and find where the pentagrams were from so he could end it once and for all. No results, none at all, and a stubborn part of his mind insisted that he would have found something if he'd had a partner to help him work. But would that happen?

Ha.

So he threw himself into his schoolwork for a distraction, even going as far as paying attention so he wouldn't draw, but it was exhausting. Ciel Payne was in every single one of his classes, glaring holes in Alois if they made eye contact and generally interfering with Alois' attempts to act normal without embracing normal. It took more effort than he was willing to give, and so, when he heard that Ciel was joining a chess club, Alois gave up once and for all. Screw the pentagrams with everything else. He almost went to talk to the school counsellor, but he decided at the last second that doing that would just drag the issue out instead of ending it.

"Hello Ciel," he said, walking into the classroom with his head as high as he could manage. The box under his arm was heavy, and his emotions a lot more so.

"I thought I told you to stay away from me," Ciel growled. He was referring to the last time they had managed to sit next to each other, three days previous, with a cramped lunchroom and precisely two empty seats being the instigators. Ciel had almost punched him again, and they had kept their distance since.

"I know. But I brought a peace offering," Alois mumbled. He was finding it particularly difficult to look Ciel in the eye, and they eyes of the rest of the room didn't make it any easier. The chess club was a lot bigger than he'd thought it would be.

"You don't have to do that," Ciel said flatly.

"I know. But I just want to be your friend, and it can be on your terms. I don't…." Alois trailed off, unsure of how to phrase himself. Ciel spared him having to speak any more.

"I don't want you around," he said. "But I suppose, if you're joining the club, I can't by any means stop you."

"I'm joining," he confirmed. "And I thought you might like this a little more than those plastic jokes you have."

He held the chessboard a little higher, and boy, the way Ciel reacted was everything he wanted.

"Is that—"

"An antique? Of course. Late nineteenth century," he said, unabashedly grinning. Ciel gulped a little bit, but he covered the gesture up with a sneer. It didn't quite have the desired effect paired with eyes the size of teacups

"And your parents just let you take to school?"

"God, no. My mother will have my head when she notices it's been touched," Alois said cheerfully. Ciel opened and closed his mouth a few times like he was going to say something, but he gave up and just started laughing.

"You're a proper nutcase, you know that?"

"I have never been more sure of anything else. That's why I want a little wager."

"Oh?" Ciel's eyes lit up with an unfamiliar mischief. So, he was a gambler.

"I want to play chess with you. If you win, I'll do one thing for you, whatever you want, and that includes leaving you alone for the rest of the year. But if I win, you have to be my friend. I won't even bring anything strange up again, but you need to stop avoiding me."

Ciel raised an eyebrow, but a ghost of a smile played on his lips. It still didn't look normal on him, but it looked good.

"You're even worse than I am. For your sake, I'm going to say no right now. You aren't going to win playing a game with me," he said. It was almost a boast, but more insulting and much more fun.

"Then you shouldn't have a problem. As I said, if we were friends, I'll keep us in the realm of reality. Either way, you win, Payne."

Ciel was visibly fighting back a smile now, and Alois knew, either way, that he'd already won. One way or another, this would be over.

"If you insist," Ciel said, giving a nonchalant tone that couldn't quite cover up how pleased he was with himself. They sat at two desks that had been put together and Alois put the pieces on the board with everyone watching.

"Black or white?"

"Black," Ciel said with a smirk. A self-satisfied smirk, now that looked natural. As long as there wasn't any semblance of really being happy, Ciel was fine with it.

"Why am I not surprised?"

White moved first.

Alois let Ciel take a few of his pawns to see his style. From what he could tell with such a slow game, he was a pretty aggressive player, leaving the king relatively open, and he favoured his knights, but other than that, nothing seemed consistent enough to make a solid assessment. Even his face was as expressionless as if he were playing poker.

"Even when I win," Alois said, moving his bishop through a gap in Ciel's line, "you're much more fun to play against than my baby brother. We'll have to do this again.

There was a momentary break in Ciel's impressive composure.

"You have a brother?" he asked. Even shaken up, Ciel pulled his queen out, knocking down the ancient porcelain with decidedly more force than Alois thought was necessary.

"Of course I have a brother. His name is Luka, and he's going to cry if you break any of these."

"We wouldn't want that," Ciel said, putting the captured bishop to the side with exaggerated care. Alois stared at the empty spot where his piece had been. He hadn't expected Ciel to take it, or bring out the queen so soon. Winning might be harder than he thought.

But at least the queen was out.

"We definitely don't want that. Even without the fact that I'd tear you apart if you made him unhappy, hearing him cry could make a person go deaf. Your move. Check."

Ciel made a quiet, choked noise that was probably caused by some sort of shock. For all he relied upon his knights, he didn't pay any better attention to them than Alois did for his bishops. He huffed and quickly moved a pawn into a block.

"Your brother sounds delightful."

Alois let out a humourless laugh and asked if Ciel had any siblings.

"Not really. My cousin Lizzie is always hanging around like some sort of baby sister, but she's not really my sister. So no."

"Enjoy the peace and quiet," Alois advised.

"Who said Lizzie was quiet?"

Alois laughed, and Ciel looked perplexed. Apparently, he hadn't even meant to be funny.

"Check," Alois mumbled gloomily. They were both too good. All either of them had left was their king and a lone pawn, and Alois knew that the pawns were each about to go. No point delaying the inevitable.

And then it wasn't inevitable. Ciel moved his own pawn into check as well, without moving his king.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't like ties. One way or another, I want the game to be decided, especially since we're playing for something real."

"But you're going to lose," Alois pointed out. Ciel's cheeks went pink, some misguided anger, and he postured like usual.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who said that I won either way," he sniffed.

"If you insist, then."

Alois knocked the black porcelain piece over with only a small degree of caution. Truth be told, he was about as fond of the board as Ciel was of an uncertain end to a game, and he didn't much care either way if it got broken. Even if he was going to get in trouble, Luka would understand if he had been the one to do it.

"Then checkmate, Ciel Payne," he said sweetly. "Now we're friends."

Ciel rubbed his eyes and muttered, "God help me."

The bell marking the end of lunch hour clanged gloomily and the two boys trudged to their class in silence, one visibly sullen, one feeling like he was full of helium. It was cruel, he knew; Ciel wanted nothing to do with him, but it didn't matter. He wasn't going to be alone anymore.

"Would it be asking too much to see your normal drawings?" Alois asked.

"Even more than you know," Ciel said, warning tones.

"If you aren't busy, would you like to hang out with me?"

"No."

"Please?"

Ciel stopped walking and pinned Alois with a murderous glare.

"We need to get a few things straight, and the first is that you need to work on your social skills. We're starting from zero here, and I don't want to hear any rubbish about being lovey-dovey besties. I will not do that with anyone, and certainly not with you. So dial it down right now."

Alois narrowed his eyes.

"Watch your tone, Ciel. A simple 'calm down' would have been much more respectful."

"Respectful?" Ciel laughed incredulously. "Do you have any idea how insane that sounds coming from you?"

"About twelve ideas," Alois deadpanned. "Three from you, four from my baby brother, one from my teacher, one from myself, and the rest from my mother."

Ciel blinked and shook his head like he couldn't process.

"You keep calling him a baby. How old is this kid anyway?" Ciel asked. Alois wondered whether that was the appropriate thing to draw from that statement, but he was grateful for the change in subject.

"Ten. Not really a baby, I suppose. And you're more fun than he is, but I think that's all ten-year-olds. He never leaves me alone."

Ciel shook his head again.

"You'd think that—" Ciel began, and then cut himself off.

"Think what?"

"Nothing."

"What? Ciel, you tell me what you were going to say right now!"

Alois made the mistake of shouting right when they entered an already-full classroom. Ciel's face burned red.

"Well, you might as well say so now," Alois pointed out, unsure of who was more irritated. Ciel sighed so hard that he seemed to crumple under his own weight.

"I figured you'd be grateful for that much when you don't have many friends," he said in an undertone. Alois guessed he should have been insulted, but he didn't really think so. Ciel sat down, and Alois hovered over him in a way that made both of them decidedly uncomfortable.

"I guess I can complain now that I have someone to complain to," he eventually said. Ciel's big blue eyes went even bigger, and he turned his attention to the front of the classroom.  
>"Go sit down, Alois."<p>

"But—"

"We can talk about this later. Teacher's here," he muttered.

"When's later?"

"If you still somehow think I'm a half-decent violinist, you can come to the Thursday lesson this week. I'm not going to drive you."

Alois nodded enthusiastically, and when his turning his back prompted some random to start running his mouth, he was in such a good mood that he pretended not to hear.

"You'd do well to stay away from him, Ciel," the voice whispered, a false do-gooder. "He's trouble."

**wow. Sorry if the whole thing with the chess game left you wanting more detail, but I 'm not nearly as talented a chess master as these two. The point wasn't the chess anyway, so much as it was a device for getting to the point. Besides that, Alois is such a weird character to write because he's so bonkers, but I've put him somewhere he needs to be at least partially sane. I'm sure I'll come up with something properly depraved soon enough -_-. Anyways, reviews are always welcome, especially if you've got any questions you want answered, and see you next week. **


	4. Have We Met?

**Hey everyone! Sorry it's a little late, but my internet was patchy enough last night that it was easier just to wait. To my fellow Canadian readers, happy Thanksgiving! For the rest of you, enjoy! Expect some more familiar faces this time around. **

Ciel quickly did something out of character and broke a promise; he let his mother drive Alois with him to his violin lessons after only one more instance of making him walk. Rachel had cooed over how delighted she was that Ciel was "finally making friends," and phrases like "aren't you just the cutest thing?" were frequently directed at Alois. In response, he had turned up the sweetness and charm just to the right amount this time, and Ciel wasn't sure whether he was pleased or infuriated by the fact that Alois hadn't scared his mother off.

"You think you're so clever," Ciel muttered as they walked up the creaky steps. A storm front played at the edge of the sky, and it looked like October was finally going to bring the first proper autumn rain.

"I think I'm adorable, Ciel. And so does your mother. Afternoon, Sebastian!" he flounced, directing the last part at the teacher.

"Afternoon, Alois. No lessons for you?" he asked.

"No lessons for me."

Ciel rolled his eyes. Alois wasn't exactly a freeloader, but he doubted Sebastian saw any non-violin player as often as he was starting to see Alois.

"Alright. We'll start with some scales for warm up," Sebastian said. He pulled off a pair of cleaning gloves and started to set up a rickety old music stand. Alois had only been hanging around for four lessons, and already they were starting to set up a routine. Alois would sit on top of the counter and do his homework in dead silence while he listened to Ciel and Sebastian, and Ciel would play with the usual amount of talent. Then, once the homework was all done with, all he had left to do was stare wide-eyed at Ciel. Which, needless to say, was unnerving.

"I'd be able to play so much better if you'd stop breathing down my neck!" he finally snapped. The lesson was almost over anyway, so there wasn't much point reacting so much, but a kid can only take so much.

"On the contrary, _my_ _lord_. You play much better on the Thursday sessions than the Sunday ones," Sebastian noted. Ciel gritted his teeth and fought back the urge to retaliate. Besides the fact that he hadn't technically been all that insulted with such an open-ended suggestion, provoking them only made things worse. Furthermore, to his infinite dismay, the term 'my lord' had stuck. It still made his stomach turn to hear it, but without a precise explanation, or even a single adequate reason, as to why, he couldn't convince Sebastian to cease his teasing.

"Either way, you need to get about six paces back, at _least_," Ciel grumbled, pointing his bow at Alois. He nodded with the unsettling smile and retreated to his usual perch on top of the counter. He shot a glance that read '_can you believe him?_' at Sebastian, who countered with a self-satisfied smirk. As Ciel had predicted, they were much better at tormenting him when they were in each other's company.

"Again, Ciel. This requires a stronger vibrato than the last attempt showed, and by the end, you were slipping out of key," Sebastian instructed, the professional again. Firm, but not necessarily unkind. Even after a few months of lessons, Ciel still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the man. Sebastian maintained that he didn't even care, but once in a while, the tall violin instructor would do or say something and make Ciel feel as nervous as Alois and his bloody pentagrams did.

Just thinking about it made Ciel shudder enough to make the violin shriek. That was the reason for his shoddy performance. Not Alois' presence, even if it was annoying. But Ciel was used to that already.

In the end, it all boiled down to the fact that he'd realized he'd started drawing again. The initial incident had put him off of it altogether, and when boredom had quite literally forced his hand, he'd made a conscious effort not to draw anything that had come naturally before he had met Alois. He'd thought he'd fallen out of the habit of insanity until he'd looked back on a month's worth of falling to pay attention.

It hardly requires saying that the revelation had left him rattled. Pentagrams weren't just a counter to boredom, he realized, but a natural default, which terrified him.

He'd been tempted to bring it back up with Alois again, but he didn't want to spoil any hard-won peace with the boy. He wasn't sure he'd refer to Alois as a friend if he were asked — after the slightly disastrous first attempt, there seemed to be an agreement that they really weren't cut out for affection— but 'companion' was a good word. They sat together at lunch hour for lack of a better idea and had come to an agreement regarding their mutually abysmal social skills.

So it continued, and Ciel almost could have said he was enjoying himself.

This particular lesson ended uneventfully, and also as it had the last three Thursdays: with ribbing from Sebastian and Alois. The barrage of insults on Ciel, of course, happened before Sebastian turned his considerable vocabulary on Alois in an attempt to convince him to take up the violin. Ciel didn't know why Sebastian thought he had so much potential. At the end of the third visit, Alois had attempted to play one note and had nearly shattered glass, but then again, Ciel had been the same on his first try. Stubbornness had been considerably more of a factor in his abilities than any sort of talent, and if nothing else, Sebastian probably expected similar results from Alois. Ciel wasn't so sure. The blond boy seemed rather unreliable when it came to hobbies. As far as he knew, he was constantly and childishly switching between extracurriculars, to the point that Ciel had decided not to ask anymore. He didn't care anyway. And he didn't think Alois would stick with the violin.

"See you next week, Sebastian!" Alois said with a bounce of cheerfulness in his voice. Ciel groaned internally. He was the one always eating sugar, but Alois was the hyperactive one. Even once they stepped outside, straight into a blustery mess of rain and wind, he maintained a faint smile.

"It's bloody miserable out. Would it kill you to be grumpy like the rest of the world?" Ciel said over the storm. Alois shrugged and turned up his collar.

"_I'm_ warm."

Ciel looked him up and down. He had an old fashioned wool coat on, too big for him like his school blazer, but doubtlessly extra warm as a result.

"Figures you are. What is it with you and oversize coats?"

He shrugged again.

"I just like them. They never have the length I like in sizes that are narrow enough around— Jesus Christ."

"What?"

"Look. Undertaker's got company."

"_What_?"

In all the time Ciel had been taking lessons with Sebastian, he'd never actually seen the grey-haired grinner do business. He'd figured this was because he didn't want to see him do anything; Undertaker made him uncomfortable on about a million different levels. But he'd never realized just how blindingly unnatural it would be to see him interacting with society like a normal human being.

Specifically, he seemed to be having an extremely heated debate with two very angry people. He couldn't make out the words, but Undertaker seemed to be in trouble.

Ciel glanced sideways at Alois to make sure he wasn't seeing things, but he seemed equally astounded. Unfortunately, Undertaker looked over too. He pointed straight at them, which was plenty enough to make Ciel's blood run cold. In a fluid movement, the two people he'd been arguing with turned around to join the staring contest. One was a stern-looking black haired man who looked spectacularly unhappy to be there, while the other was a little harder to place. He guessed it was a woman from the skirt, but the figure was a little less female. He knew better than to even consider pointing it out, but it only made the overall image a little more confusing. Her hair was unnaturally red —the kind that couldn't be anything except dye— which was baffling on an otherwise official-looking ensemble, and to cap it all off, it was exceedingly hard to tell whether she was angry, or bored, or simply as miserable with being there as her companion. They both wore crisp suits and glasses, and the eyes behind them turned to stare at Ciel and Alois.

"_Cielllllll_," Alois said in a cringey, panicked voice. "We should go."

"Right," Ciel said, but he didn't move yet. He was sure there was no way he could see the redhead and forget about her, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd met the two of them before. Just thinking about it was downright painful, but the stare held.

Until it didn't. The black haired stiff turned back around and shoved the redhead until she turned as well, and the argument resumed, looking considerably more vehement than before.

"Okay. We can go," Ciel said quickly. They were almost running to get away, but shouts from behind stopped them about halfway down the block.

"What now?" Ciel said. Sebastian was clattering down the street, Ciel's school blazer in hand.

"No wonder you were cold, if all you had was that stupid windbreaker," Alois muttered in a tone Ciel didn't think he was supposed to have heard. Ciel didn't return the insult, but he snatched up the jacket as soon as Sebastian got close enough.

"Thank you," he muttered grudgingly. The violin teacher grinned, but he didn't seem all that capable of saying anything, with his face bright red and his hands on his knees.

"Good God, Sebastian. That wore you out?" Ciel scoffed. Sebastian at least was able to look up, but the murderous expression made clear he didn't want to.

"Violin teachers don't get a lot of time for exercise, my _lord_," he spat between heaving breaths. Alois was laughing at him in an undertone, but Ciel already felt bad for mocking him. It was kind of pathetic seeing Sebastian look so worn out. It almost felt wrong.

After a second he shook his head, sending most of his hair into his eyes, and stood up . He still looked red in the face as he pushed his glasses back up.

"I'm surprised I caught up with you two. Did something keep you?" he asked, going back to smiling and brushing his hair back out of his face. Both boys pointed wordlessly back at Undertaker and Co. If it were possible, Sebastian looked even more surprised than they felt.

"Now _that's_ a sight I never thought I'd see," he said. "But… am I the only one who feels like I've seen it _before_, though?"

Alois shook his head aggressively, but Ciel felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. The gasp he let out must have been louder than he'd thought, because Sebastian looked down.

"Ciel? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" he shouted. Sebastian stared, and Ciel didn't think the violinist believed him.

"I'm _fine_, Sebastian," Ciel repeated firmly. "But you're right. The redhead in particular is familiar."

Sebastian's eyes widened, and Alois squinted at the arguing trio like he was trying to see what Sebastian and Ciel did, chewing thoughtfully on his lip.

"Interesting. But I feel like we wouldn't have forgotten about someone like _that_," Sebastian said. The redheaded woman made a particularly overeager-looking gesture, visible even to them, to drive the point home.

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

It was easy to keep staring —they made for an interesting sight— but it was less easy being stared at. Undertaker pointed them out again, and the two unknowns turned around. The redhead squinted for a moment before absolutely exploding in a flurry of wild gestures, complete with a piercing shriek. The fit of excitement was cut short when the black haired man unceremoniously stomped on the redhead woman's foot. Despite the confusion of the situation, all three spectators had to bite back laughter.

"I like _him_," Sebastian snickered. Without warning, he strode over towards Undertaker's shop.

"What the devil is he doing?" Ciel said in disbelief. Alois looked after him with eyes the size of saucers.

"I don't know. But I'm doing it too."

"What!"

The blond was already gone, off like a shot. Ciel had to follow. Why couldn't that stupid boy make up his mind? He had been the one angling to leave from the start, not Ciel.

Sebastian was already turning up the charm when Ciel got there. The redhead's face had turned red as well, and despite the best efforts of her companion, she seemed to be struggling to get a word in.

"… and I just was a little surprised to see Mr. Undertaker here out an about is all. My apologies," Sebastian said sweetly. Ciel shivered. Somehow, that much kindness forced into an innocuous statement seemed suspicious, and given Sebastian's track record of mocking Ciel with such tones, that only made it even more dodgy.

_What happened to 'I like him'?_" Ciel wondered irritably.

"Have you two met before? Because Ciel was saying you looked familiar," Alois piped up suddenly. If Ciel had retained his ability to move or speak through the shock, he would have either strangled or shouted at Alois, or both. The sheer amount to tact that he didn't have left Ciel dumbfounded, and both Sebastian and the stiff as well by the looks of it. The redhead, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly overexcited again. She made a rather strangled noise, and she would have done more if her partner hadn't stepped on her foot again.

"Will! How dare you!" she squeaked. The voice that came out of her mouth was exaggeratedly and forcedly high, and again, something Ciel wasn't going to bring up. She had most of her hair piled into a bun, but she derisively tossed her bangs and sniffed when she finished hopping around.

"I was _right_," she said defensively.

"You weren't right or wrong about anything, Sutcliff," Will growled. "I am so sorry for… her behaviour. She's new."

Ciel didn't think he sounded very sorry, and Sutcliff just looked plain insulted.

"What did she mean by that, though?" Alois asked.

_Alois! Shut up!_ Ciel thought.

"I agree with Alois, if you don't mind saying so," Ciel said. Sebastian nodded in agreement. Clearly in an even worse mood than before, Will shot Sutcliff a brief, murderous look that sent her cowering.

"For the most part, that's classified," he sighed. "But I suppose there's no harm in telling you that she simply got overexcited. You asked if we had met before, and it's ironic that you did since she was wondering the same thing."

"Oh?" Sebastian said. His brow was furrowed, and his stare at Sutcliff could have burned a hole in a wall, but she didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, she seemed to revel in it.

"Indeed. However, she shouldn't need reminding that her theory is _irrevocably and undeniably impossible_," Will said stiffly, the last part clearly directed straight at her. She didn't flinch this time, and pointed wordlessly at the three of them.

"How's it so impossible, if we can agree with it too?" Alois asked. Ciel was surprised he was so on board, when only he and Sebastian had seemed to be experiencing this deja vu.

"Because the doppelgängers, for lack of a better word, that bring the issue to light are without doubt long dead. And we know that none of them had twins, or even family to speak of, so this situation, however extraordinary it is, is purely in the realm of coincidence," Will insisted. He sounded like he was reading the statement from an outdated textbook.

"Come on. Something must be going on," Ciel said. "Who the hell even are you, anyhow? Some sort of government agency?"

Undertaker, who until this point had been watching silently and leaning against a wall, began to snicker.

"You shut it. You're on probation as it is," Will snapped. "To in regards to your question, the short answer is yes. My name is William T. Spears, and this is my partner, Gre—_Gretchen_ Sutcliff."

They both flashed badges, too quick for anyone to get a proper look at them.

"We work for an agency that handles things too sensitive for normal police, but too small-scale for MI5," Sutcliff recited. "Hence, the doppelgänger issue. GR are the only ones who would see something so odd."

"GR? I've never heard of anyone like you," Sebastian said.

"Yes. And we'd like to keep it that way," Spears deadpanned. "Our business is with this man. You'd do well to keep out of it."

With a pointed finger at Undertaker and a stormy glare, the threat was obvious.

"Come on, Will! They could be… helpful… I suppose… okay," Sutcliff exclaimed, then said, then stammered. She had the air of someone who Spears was only barely keeping a leash on, but he did have a way of getting her, and everyone else, to shut up.

She straightened up, and then to Sebastian's obvious discomfort, batted an eyelash at him.

"We could get a coffee," she suggested in a flirtatious tone. "Discuss a little more in the way of _details_."

She was standing very close to him, and in his haste to get back, Sebastian tripped over his own feet. Ciel reached out to grab him, but he only ended up going down as well under Sebastian's weight.

"Somehow, that seems spectacularly out of character for you," Sutcliff muttered, blinking like an owl behind her gaudy glasses. She held out a hand to help them up, but Sebastian ignored it, instead pulling himself up and then Ciel.

"Regardless of what you thought of me, rest assured that panicking when people get in my face is _normal_, which is why I would like you to get out of it," Sebastian said, brushing himself off. Sutcliff pouted, but she reluctantly shuffled backwards. Spears sighed again and pushed his glasses up with his pen.

"_Please_ don't do this again, Sutcliff," he groaned. "You three, clear off. Our business is with him, and _only_ him." The redhead nodded in agreement, but she continued to glare at Spears while muttering something that sounded vaguely like 'B student.'

"By all means," Sebastian said. His smile was a thousand different kinds of greasy, fake sweetness, and it was understood by everyone.

"Go. _Now_."

Alois looked like he was already ready to sprint off, but Ciel didn't move.

"Didn't you hear him? Get out of here, kid," Sutcliff said, leaning over him. He hated being so short, but her high heels didn't help. Ciel would have said something, and in retrospect, it would have been a bad idea, but Sebastian put a hand on Ciel's shoulder.

"Ciel," he said in warning tones. "I'm in the mood for a cup of tea. Would you mind joining me and Alois?"

Ciel gritted his teeth and mumbled something indifferent enough that Sebastian could take it for a 'yes'.

"Good," he said, and then, addressing the suits, "agents." He finished off with something resembling a salute, which was met with rolling eyes from Spears and Sutcliff looking like she was going to faint. Sebastian grabbed Ciel by his collar and gently pulled him towards his shop.

"Don't you have other students?" Ciel grumbled.

"It's Thursday. They're not coming until five-thirty. And I think you'll agree that we have bigger problems?"

Ciel glanced backwards. The argument looked even more heated than before.

"Fine. One cup of tea."

**On the subject of Grell's gender, I should specify that I headcanon her as non-binary (as opposed to the other interpretations of him as a ftm transwoman or merely as a flamboyant male). Specifically, I believe the term for how I see Grell is 'bigender', and the pronouns I'll use will reflect that. If anyone who's more educated on issues like this wants to correct me on something, I welcome the information with open arms. Furthermore, as an extension of this head canon, I believed that in this more accepting society, Grell would discard the male human disguise we saw during his time working with Madame Red and take advantage of the chance to present as female. Ciel is relatively good at holding his tongue, so I wrote him as assuming "Gretchen" was trans, but when Grell's identity becomes more clear to him, I'm going to say right now that I'll be switching back and forth between pronouns (think BMO from Adventure Time). Again, if anyone can think of a better way to do this, then they should tell me, but with how I interpret Grell, this is what makes the most sense to me. The last two things I want to do is insult anyone, or fail to do a brilliant character justice. **


	5. Your Highness, Your Insanity

**Hey guys! Update time! Just going to let you know right now that I've got exams coming up, so I won't have an update next Sunday, but until then, enjoy this one!**

Alois was already waiting for them, but Ciel was sure that if he could have run all the way home, he would have. He was perched on top of the counter like always, but swinging his legs so fast they were almost blurring and chewing his lip bloody. Sebastian fixed him with his sternest expression and Alois gulped audibly.

"Get down from there, you little monkey. We need to talk. _Now_."

Alois' eyes widened in fear, and then narrowed into a petulant glare.

"Make me," he said. Ciel gritted his teeth.

"Don't be such a child, Alois. Honestly."

Sebastian gave Alois a sharp shove to the side, but he planted his boots against the wood of the counter and didn't move. When Sebastian tried again and it still failed to knock him all the way off the counter, Ciel pushed past Sebastian and leaned towards Alois. Sebastian had at least left him horizontal, and laziness or stubbornness meant Alois wouldn't get up. Ciel, for once had a height advantage.

"Oi! Alois, listen up please!" he shouted in his face. Alois squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears.

"No. I want to go home."

"Then get out of my shop!" Sebastian shouted. Ciel was stunned. He couldn't remember the last time the gentlemanly violinist had raised his voice. Alois sat up cautiously, but he had his hands raised like he might cover his ears again. Sebastian's didn't look like he was finished talking.

"If you do not want to be here, then get out before I _throw_ you out," he said, straightening up and posturing. For a second, Ciel could believe he could be literal with the threat. "If you're getting out, then go, but I think we need to talk, the three of us, and I'll be damned if this issue is left unresolved."

Alois muttered rebellious nothings under his breath, but he slid off of the counter.

"I'm sorry. Please don't be angry," he mumbled.

"You really are such a child."

"I'm sixteen in a month, you idiot."

"Then _behave_ like it," Sebastian snapped. Alois didn't seem to flinch, but he looked away. Ciel took the opportunity to steal his attention.

"What's the matter with you, Alois? If anything, you should be the calm one. You're the only one who didn't have some sort of deja vu there."

Alois shook his head violently, and with a note of panic, Ciel realized that he was on the verge of tears _again_.

"I recognized them. Just the redhead. I lied because I didn't want to think about it," he said in a small, wobbly voice. "I don't know what's been happening lately. I feel like I'm going mad."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"What _else_ have you two been getting up to lately?"

Ciel and Alois exchanged glances. There had been an unspoken agreement that maybe, if they ignored the issue that had brought them together, it would go away. If they dug it back up, they would have to acknowledge that it existed, and follow it through to the end.

There was a second unspoken agreement to dig it up anyway and show Sebastian. The two boys wordlessly pulled notebooks out and held them open towards the violin teacher.

"Alois, this is the same thing you asked me about weeks ago. I don't— dammit," Sebastian swore. He stared, brown eyes wide, at the drawings.

"You showed him?" Ciel asked. What else had Alois done without him?

"I did it like it was a movie thing or something. Don't worry," Alois said, although it was hard to tell whether he was being truthful or not. Sebastian didn't seem to be able to tell anything at all, just staring vaguely at the page for so long that Ciel started measuring the time in minutes instead of seconds.

"I don't think this is your way of telling me you've started a cult together," he eventually said. Ciel and Alois shook their heads identically; a small part of Ciel noticed, and was more than a little disturbed by the synchronization.

"I started this sketchpad two months before I even met Alois, and I have older ones where I drew something similar. Alois' notebook is four months old, at which point he didn't even live in the same city as you or me," Ciel said in a monotone. Sebastian began rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"How on earth did I get myself into this?" he mumbled. "Boys, I've never drawn anything like any of those, but I know I've seen them before. The big one in the purple ink that you drew, Ciel, especially."

"When I asked him about this the first time, he did say he recognized them. But I didn't bring it up again because you didn't want to hear about it. And I didn't want to spoil anything," Alois piped up.

"And then this happened," Sebastian agreed. "No wonder you ran off, Alois. You must have been scared to death. That said, they didn't want to talk about it to us. I'm worried this is more serious than what we should get into. If we—"

"No!" Alois interrupted. Ciel had to agree that letting this issue go felt like a bad plan, but even he was shocked at how upset Alois looked. He'd been on the verge of tears before, but now he was definitely crying.

"I'm scared. I want to find out what this is so I don't have to be scared anymore," he fought out between gasps.

"Okay. We won't drop the issue. But you have to calm down," Ciel said. He was reassuring people. What on earth was the world coming to, and how was he supposed to do it?

"Okay. Thank you," Alois sniffed. "Wait. Ciel, give me your notepad."

"What? _Why_?"

The question was so abrupt that Ciel reflexively pulled back

"I wanna show Sebastian something."

Ciel hesitated. He wasn't sure he trusted Alois with his private sketches, but what choice did he have? What he was worrying about was a worry he felt with everyone. He wasn't comfortable showing off his private thoughts, something ordinary sketches very effectively were. But that was the only thing they were. Ordinary, and ordinary for everyone. Showing Alois was in the realm of something different altogether. He handed it over, and the blond boy quickly started flipping through the pages, so aggressively that Ciel almost snapped at him that he was going to rip the paper.

"You two talked about the GR agents like you might have seen them somewhere in real life or something, but I _knew_ where I'd seen Sutcliff before," Alois muttered.

"In my _book_?"

"Yes," Alois said, completely serious. When he flipped the book to halfway, there was a vaguely sinister picture of a red-haired man with sharp teeth. Sebastian looked it over and raised an eyebrow at the thoroughly bizarre picture. Ciel felt a flash of irritation, even though he knew it was neither the time or the place.

"I had a nightmare, alright? This made me feel better," he said. "And why do you even know about that?" Ciel felt somewhere between embarrassed and pathetic, but Alois looked delighted, choked-back sobs collapsing into giggles. The half-dried tears on his face came into sharp relief when they were put next to a manic grin.

"Yes! A dream. And you can't dream up faces you haven't seen before. I read it online," Alois said, ignoring Ciel.

"Why do you know this picture, Alois!"

The blond boy froze, blinked in a way that was somehow reminiscent of a computer rebooting itself, and started to explain everything at once.

"I'm really sorry I looked over your shoulder, Ciel, and I probably shouldn't have, but I did, and I didn't tell you because I thought you'd be angry, and I saw this, and doesn't he look like Sutcliff?" he babbled. Ciel squinted. He knew his own art skills were nothing impressive, but he felt a little sick looking at his own work, the same as the old familiar pentagrams.

"Er… I'm not sure it looks _exactly_…" Sebastian cut in, putting his glasses back on.

"Forget the face! Ciel's terrible at them anyway. Look at how he's standing!" Alois insisted. Ciel ignored the slight since his head was spinning too much to even really listen to it. Sutcliff, even while standing still in a stark black suit, gave off an air of having far too much bottled-up, flamboyant, energy. So, it seemed, did his own drawing, mid-leap and flailing around with a chainsaw, all topped with a leer and wrapped in an eye-gougingly red coat that had nearly drained his marker of its ink. He couldn't remember the nightmare clearly anymore, or even when he had drawn the picture, but at the time, he knew it had been bloody and awful and six kinds of dramatic. It didn't matter that the face was unidentifiable, or even different from any other face he drew. It didn't need to be.

"Oh, God," Ciel muttered. He realized didn't want to remember. He'd suffered from night terrors for years. If he forgot something, he usually considered it a blessing. The only thing they were good for were was being drawing fodder.

Night terrors. The connecting factor in a nostalgia trip.

"Wait a minute," he said aloud. Alois and Sebastian stared expectantly.

"What? Ciel, did you figure something out?" Alois asked, leaning over him expectantly.

"Obviously. Get out of my face!"

Alois jumped backwards like he'd been shocked, stumbling straight into Sebastian.

"Would you get on with it, _my_ _lord_?" Sebastian growled, pushing Alois off of him. Ciel shivered at the nickname.

"Don't call me— no. No, even that stupid name bothers me. It's another problem," Ciel muttered, rubbing his eyes. "All I meant is that I think my nightmares had something to do with it. Somehow."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes and hesitantly shook his head, but Alois started nodding enthusiastically.

"Wha— _Ciel_. That's _impossible_ when it's both of you," Sebastian said firmly.

"Says who? The government was involved! This could all be some sort of experiment!" Alois declared.

"Alois have you even—"

"Collective dreams, from like, radio waves! I've read about these things, in magazines, and they could definitely do it…"

Alois continued babbling like this for almost a full two minutes, jumping from conspiracy to conspiracy before either Ciel or Sebastian could catch up with the last one. When he finally burned himself out, he looked expectantly at both of them.

"Well?"

"You're out of your mind, Alois," Ciel said flatly. Alois' face contorted into an expression of the purest fury, instead of screaming at Ciel like he expected, he burst into wet, soppy tears. Sebastian gave Ciel a reprimanding look and carefully bent down to look Alois in the eye.

"Alois," he said gently. The tears continued, but were marginally quieter.

"Alois, Ciel didn't mean that. We're all stressed, and I've known him long enough to tell when he's really being mean," Sebastian continued, taking the change in volume as permission to even be talking at all. Ciel figured he should probably be apologizing himself instead of letting Sebastian do everything for him, and he knew he was even a little insulted that he wasn't trusted to do it himself, but at the same time, he was very much fine with standing back.

"I don't think the dreams are the answer. I never have any dreams like this, but that's a good thing. It means that no one's taken advantage of you, and if it's nothing so strange as that, then we can figure it out. Doesn't that sound better?"

Alois nodded teary-eyed.

"Good," Sebastian enthused, clapping Alois good-naturedly on the shoulder.

"Thank you," Alois croaked.

"Come on, then. Let's be cheerful about this," Sebastian said, pulling Alois to his feet.

"Are we friends now?" Alois asked, giggling a little. Sebastian blinked and broke a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Was I making it seem like I didn't like you?" he asked. Alois ignored the question and moved on to more pressing matters.

"Are you going to give me a silly nickname?"

Even Ciel had to laugh. He really was an overgrown five-year-old. Catching himself, though, it seemed like it might not be the best plan, if the nickname set Alois off the same way it did him.

"If you want a nickname, I'll have one for you," Sebastian laughed, deliberately missing Alois' point. "What'll it be for you, then? We've got 'my lord.' Am I going to have to start calling you 'your highness'?"

Alois stared bug-eyed for so long that Ciel was worried he was going to cry again. He wasn't sure whether what he actually did was worse or better.

"I _love_ it," he mumbled with a smile, before retching all over the floor.

**So yeah, Alois didn't have a lot of interactions with the reapers in the series, but that doesn't mean he can't know them from somewhere. Poor baby, all sick (I am such a horrible person and I love it). Sorry to leave you an ending like that when you're going to be waiting for a little extra time, but as ever, thanks for reading!**


	6. The Truman Show

**And after my lack of existing last week, here is the solution to the mystery of poor dear sick Alois' fate. Enjoy!**

"I am _so_ sorry, Ms. Truman," Sebastian said. "It won't happen again."

Alois was still too sick to care. Why did this always have to happen to him?

"I certainly should hope so."

And his mother? Good grief. He tugged on the borrowed shirt (Sebastian's) and tried to sink into the collar.

"Mum—"

"Hold on, Alois. Mr. Michaels, what _exactly_ has been going on with you three?"

As if she was going to let him get a word in. Ha.

"I just watch him play the violin, mum," Alois tried to tell her. Ciel nodded, but she wasn't finished.

"If this happens again, I'm going to have the police on you. On _both_ of you," she promised. It wasn't an empty threat, he was sure. Alois watched Ciel's face flash indignation at the words, almost going as far as rage, but anything he could have said was choked back when Sebastian stepped in front of him with no attempt at subtlety.

"Rest assured, ma'am. I can guarantee that this will _never_ happen again," he said, in sugary tones that made even Alois flinch. Anya Truman maintained her usual stone-face. Sebastian Michaels would not charm her.

"Indeed."

"I'm sorry, Ciel," Alois croaked. His mother nudged him inside and he didn't see Ciel nod or leave. He didn't care about that either, for the moment.

"I don't want you hanging around that boy anymore, Alois. He's trouble," she said. God, she was even peeking out the curtains to watch him go.

"You do understand that everyone I know except Ciel says the same thing about me?" he asked. She pulled away from the curtain with an oddly blank expression on her face.

"I didn't know _that_," she said carefully.

"Well, they do. All of them except Ciel. Because he's my _friend_."

It was still so strange saying those words.

"You and him aren't… you know..…" she said, trailing off and conveying her meaning a lot more effectively than any real words would. Which, naturally, pissed him off.

"Euch! _Him_? Are you crazy, mum? I hate him. I mean, he's my friend, and he's great, but I hate him!"

Getting upset, now _that_ was certainly the best way to convince her. She raised an eyebrow, rightfully not believing a word, but someone worse interrupted.

"Hate who?"

"Go away, Luka," he grumbled.

"Okay."

A minute or so later, his mother had disappeared, but he could almost feel Luka hovering behind him. No way he was gone.

"I said to go away, Luka!" he screeched.

"_Alois_," came his mother's voice, warning tones.

"I'm not doing anything wrong! I'm still sick!" He started walking over to the stairs in as much of an un-storming-off way as he could. By the end, he was running, and when he got to the door to his room, there were little footsteps behind him, trying and failing to be quiet about it.

"Hate who?" Luka repeated.

"What are you, a parrot? Go away. I'm too tired for this. I need a shower or something," Alois spat.

"I'm sorry," he said instantly. Now that was getting ridiculous. Small children were not supposed to be that polite. He turned around to Luka rocking on his heels and looking sheepish.

"Are you okay, Luka?"

"Are you?" he countered.

He kept sat down. Luka followed suit.

"I don't know. I was really sick at the violin shop with Ciel, but…" he trailed off, mentally skirting the horrible name. Why him?

"Is he the one you hate?" Luka asked. Sharp kid. Stupid for bringing it back, but clever in his own way.

"I don't know that either. No."

Luka made a sour face and pulled a bag of candy out of his back pocket.

"You're weird," he said, stuffing something unidentifiable and sticky into his mouth.

"Oi! I want some!"

"No way! You said you were sick."

He had a point, but who cared?

"I'm not sick!"

"I can hear your stomach from here!" he said pointedly. Of _course_ a dumb little kid would say something so hopelessly disgusting.

"I'll tell mum you're eating before supper!" Alois taunted. Boy, did that one get a reaction.

"_My_ candy, Lois!" he whined. Alois reached for the bag, only for Luka to swipe it away so fast that Alois could trip over his own feet; he barely avoided the ground. His brother risked his health in a different way by giggling until he started to choke on his candy.

"My God. What would you do if I weren't around?" Alois said, holding Luka upright while he coughed. He gave one sharp hack and glared red-eyed at Alois.

"I'd eat my own candy. By myself," he grumbled. And then he held out the bag of slightly stickied cherry lozenges.

"You're the best, Luka," he sang. It didn't even taste good, but the point was only that he'd gotten it.

"Can you tell me about Ciel now?" Luka asked. Now it was Alois' turn to choke.

"I don't hate him," he clarified.

"Uh-_huh_."

For a ten-year-old, he could look so cynical. The twit.

"What do you want, Luka, a bloody soap opera? He's just a friend."

"And you have _so_ many friends."

"Don't roll your eyes. You're still a shrimp," Alois snapped. Frankly, the motion just reminded him distressingly of Ciel until Luka switched to making a face like he'd seen a ghost.

"Alright, I won't. Really. But what's going on? You're scaring me, Lois," he said. Whether he was play-acting or not, Alois couldn't tell, but his eyes went huge and tearful.

"Scaring you? You mean more than usual?" Alois muttered sarcastically. Luka gave a titanic sniff and Alois back-pedalled furiously. Luka wasn't acting in the slightest.

"Nononono, don't cry. It's fine, alright? I'm just a little stressed out. That's all. Just stress, Luka, that's all," he babbled. Luka's lip wobbled and then hardened into a scowl.

"You swear?"

"I… I… ugh…." Promising was too hard.

"_Lois_!"

"I'm fine! For God's sake!"

"No you're not. You're doing the creepy smile again," he said. Alois felt sick again instantly.

"I don't smile."

"I'm not stupid, Lois! You're doing it right now."

"I do _not_ smile!" he growled, drawing a fist. Luka took a step back, eyes wide, and Alois felt like a coiled spring that let itself loose. All wound up, and then he snapped.

And at Luka.

"I'm so sorry, Luka," he whispered. The redhead boy shook his head with a lot more disdain than Alois had ever seen on him before. Maybe it could be so much since it had started as fear.

"_This_ is why you scare me," he said. He turned tail and ran into his room. Alois watched him go with that disgusting cherry taste still in his mouth, and he screamed. He screamed so hard and with so much frustration that he barely heard his mother's panic that something was wrong and had to put even more effort into croaking out reassurances for her.

So this was what going crazy meant.

As such, he had a crazy idea. Who said anything about doing this on his own?

He knocked on the door, throat still raw.

"Go away!" Luka whined. Now _he_ was the one saying it. Ha.

"Luka, I know I scared you, and I'm sorry, and if you open the door, I'll tell you what's going on."

"Nnngggh… go away," he groaned, but at least he hesitated.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what else to do!"

Luka was quiet for so long that Alois almost left, but then he heard an exceedingly small voice say, "Do you mean it? Or are you just going to lie to me again?"

"Now why would I lie to you, Luka?"

Luka opened the door so fast that Alois almost fell inward on it.

"If you say anything like that to me again, I'm gonna punch you in the bollocks," he said. Alois wanted to bust out laughing until he lost his voice again, hearing the squeaky little bastard try to cuss like that, but he restrained himself so Luka wouldn't cry again.

"Well, for starters, I won't tell mum you're using language like that," Alois grinned. True to form, Luka aimed a swing downstairs.

"Whoa!"

He barely missed.

"Tell me what's going on Alois," he growled, tears brimming again.

"Okay. Long story short, I think I've got some sort of mental illness. But like, a cool one. Not like what mum's always been threatening me about."

He sighed in relief and sank to his feet.

"Luka?"

"Don't scare me like that, you dummy!" he screeched.

"Are you okay?"

God, he really wasn't sure.

"I thought it was _serious_!"

"Luka… This actually _is_ serious," Alois pointed out, more than a little miffed. Luka looked up with a frustrated twist to his mouth.

"You've always been mad, Lois. _Always_. If you're crazy, then I know everything's okay," he said. Alois felt sick, but not like before. What had he done to that poor bastard of a kid to make him thing of that?

"Come 'ere, Luka," he mumbled. The redhead let loose a choked giggled that was more hysterical than humorous and threw himself into a rib-cracking hug that didn't break for a long time.

"Can you do something for me?" Alois eventually whispered. He felt him nod into his shoulder, but the embrace only tightened.

"I'll show you a picture, and you have to let me know if you ever see anything like it. Don't do anything else. Just let me know. Can you do that?"

One more nod, and Alois could feel tears soaking through his collar.

"And don't tell mum. This is one of our little secrets, okay?"

This time he saw him nod, although it didn't seem all that important next to the expression on his face.

"I'll do anything. Just some dumb picture?" he asked, smiling and having a shaky voice at the same time. So Alois smiled too.

"Just a dumb picture. And you won't have to worry about me anymore," he promised. Why hadn't he thought of this before? He needed help, and he needed help from someone sane. He could trust Luka. If he couldn't…

Well, he didn't even want to finish the thought, so might as well change the subject.

"Aw, dammit. This is Sebastian's shirt you got wet. Oh well," he shrugged. Sebastian was pretty laid back, more or less. He'd understand, and if he didn't, it'd be funny seeing him annoyed.

"I wasn't crying! Somehow you did that!" Luka insisted.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah! Really!"

Alois helped him to his feet, and Luka's sweetness seemed to be fully renewed.

"What's this picture that's making you so crazy?" he asked brightly.

"I'll show you now, if you're so eager."

It took about ten steps to get to his room, but in that time, Luka managed a downright prodigious number of questions.

"So, are you having weird dreams, or something?"

"Gosh, you're not hallucinating, are you?"

"What about being psychic? Is that even a real thing?"

"Slow down, kid!" Alois laughed.

"But I wanna know!"

"Okay, okay. All in good time. No hallucinations. Certainly not psychic. _Probably_ no dreams either. Just doubting my existence a little bit," he listed off. That was a lot more cheerful sounding than he meant. He'd gotten Luka involved, but he wasn't going to _scare_ him.

He dug through his bag until he found a notebook that was worth showing Luka. Everything on one page.

Why was he being so careful?

"Okay. If you ever see any of these on the internet, or in a movie or something, you let me know, okay? Don't go looking for them, though. This is trouble. But don't forget. Can you do that?"

Luka snorted and rolled his eyes.

"That's it? That's easy. I've already seen that one," he giggled.

"What?" Alois croaked. He was going to throw up again.

"I've seen the blue one before. The one you got all smudgy. Is it from a comic book or something?" he asked. How happy could he be about this?

"I don't know. That's enough, Luka. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You can't just leave me hanging like that!"

"I'll say more when there's more to say! Clear off, alright?"

He pouted, Alois was throwing daggers from his eyes until he left. And the second Luka closed (slammed) the door, Alois went scrambling for his cellphone, only to remember halfway through typing a message that he still didn't have Ciel's phone number.

**In case I didn't make it blindingly (or, as it quite awkwardly felt as I was writing it, painfully) obvious, Anya Truman is meant to be a rearrange of Yana for Yana Toboso. The 'smudgy blue one' (also painful) was furthermore meant to be Hannah's seal, which would naturally be the only one Luka would have anything to do with. While most of this chapter was a bit rough to get through, I did like writing the banter between Alois and Luka. As another oldest sibling, I know kids are a lot smarter and a lot better at being annoying than we give them credit for. Alois, as I intend to write him, is currently unstable at best, and I really wanted to write someone who completes the balancing act. After all, the entire second season really came down to Luka in the end. **

**See you next week, and a happy belated Halloween!**


	7. A Convoluted Beeline to a Confusing Day

**Hey guys! Expect some more familiar faces this time!**

Alois woke up the following morning at about four AM. His hair hadn't even dried all the way since he had showered, and it stuck to the back of his neck. He gave up on trying to fall back asleep and staggered his way down the stairs roughly an hour an a half later, and his father emerged from the bathroom precisely five minutes after that, shuffling along in his bathrobe behind a newspaper.

James looked up from the sports section with obvious concern.

"What are you doing up at this hour, Lois?" he asked.

"_Good_ question," said Alois. Or he might have imagined saying it, because moving his lips around anything other than a cup of coffee was going to be extraordinarily difficult.

"Are you sure you _should_ be up at this hour?"

"S'a _better_ question, dear father," he groaned. He stumbled over to the coffeepot at the back of the kitchen and didn't bother getting a cup. Or a chair. The counter was fine.

"Lois," he heard his father say. "I hope you're not doing what I think you're doing."

"There's like…" he trailed off, staring at the pot in his hand and trying to think of what to say; the words wouldn't come. James rolled his eyes and walked up to Alois.

"At this point, you're welcome to the whole thing," he said. He bopped him on the head with the newspaper and Alois jumped near out of his skin. His father smiled good-naturedly, so Alois turned his attention back to the coffee.

"There's like _six_ sips" he decided. "It's fine if I drink it straight out of the pot, then."

"Okay, then, Lois."

They sat in silence until Alois got tired of silence.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me that I look awful or something? I feel like I'm dying, pay attention to me!"

James ran his fingers through thinning blond hair and looked Alois up and down.

"What am I supposed to say? You don't look so good, but usually, when you don't look so good, your mother and I have to quite literally drag you out of bed. You know that, right?"

"No," Alois said flatly. "And hey! What are you doing up?"

"I think I've got whatever you have. I've got the _worst_ headache," he said sheepishly. Alois took a gulp of the coffee. It had gone lukewarm already.

"I think you're fine, dad," he muttered.

"Mm. Do you need some ibuprofen or anything?"

"I'm _fine_."

"You sure? Nothing you want?"

"I want pancakes," Alois decided. He deserved them, he thought.

"You'll have to wait an hour or so for that. Your mother won't be up for while."

"Are you implying, father, that I cannot make my own pancakes?" he demanded. James put his hands up in indifferent surrender.

"If you want pancakes, then you are welcome to making yourself some pancakes."

"Okay, that was really stupid. I'm sorry," he said. Anya rubbed her eyes, probably so she wouldn't have to look at the mess he'd made. Plus, there had been enough noise to get her down so early as he did, which wasn't good.

"Alois, I think I'll have you clean this up as soon as we're all done eating. Go sit down."

"Yes ma'am," he said. She nodded in grim approval.

"You did good, Lois. They look great. I just for the life of me can't figure out _why_?"

"I just wanted pancakes, mum!"

Anya looked over at James, who merely shrugged and turned his attention back to his tie.

"The gentlemen in my life," she muttered with a faint smile. She picked up the newspaper, and Alois made a point of enjoying the pancakes that he had worked so hard on. And they were delicious.

"So, if you're up for pancakes, I'm guessing you're up for school?"

"I've never felt better, mother," he said sweetly. Beyond the fact that it was half past six and he'd been up for two and a half hours, he really meant it. He was sure he'd crash and burn hard about halfway through the day, but he'd enjoy the high while he felt it.

Subject settled, the newspaper was much more interesting.

"Oh, goodness, James. Some woman got murdered in our neighbourhood, yesterday," Anya said from behind the pages.

"I know, I saw. Dreadful business, really," he shuddered.

"Who got killed, mum?" Alois piped up. He felt bad, getting excited about it, but he couldn't deny that criminals were fun. And something going to pieces that wasn't him? Brilliant. He almost hoped it was going to be a serial killer so he could scare Luka about it later. Viewed as a concept, with no one he knew involved, grisly murders were like good movies.

"Ah, 'Annafellows' someone. Or something. I don't know her, but so _close_," she fretted. The syrup on his pancake tasted an awful lot like glue all of a sudden.

"Can I see that, mum?"

Scratch that. No fun, none at all.

"Oh, sure," she said. "You always did like the crime papers," she smiled. She finished the article maddeningly slowly and pulled the page out for Alois. His hands shook a little, but it was still too goddamn _early_ to be afraid of anything.

Except, perhaps, a photograph of a woman with white hair and the most murderous expression he had ever seen coupled with a smile.

"You alright there?" his father asked.

"Yeah. Fine," he mumbled. A gunshot victim not a block from his house, murderer gone without a trace. A Jane Doe, but with a letter on her person suggested maybe that Hannah Annafellows may or may not have been her name. Hannah fucking Annafellows.

Who the bloody hell was Hannah Annafellows, and what had she done to deserve dying and disturbing his morning?

"There's a girl in the chess club whose last name is Annafellows. I'll ask if she knew her, make sure she's okay," he lied, the falsehood rolling effortlessly off his tongue.

"That's good of you. She could use a friend, if that's what it is."

Alois laughed, hoping it sounded like he agreed.

"Then I'll have two whole friends! You were right when you said moving would be good for me!" he joked. They all had a good little laugh, and Alois gave the newspaper page back like a good little boy. He ate as slowly as he could, enjoying his glue-pancakes, and when his mother left him alone to wash his multitude of dishes and flour-coated surfaces, he took a break to cut the article out and stuff it in his pocket.

"Hey, Alois?" he heard her call from up the stairs.

"Eh? One minute, I've got— oh. Okay," he finished rather dejectedly, having spilled about as much liquid as he could in one go trying to hear.

"Your dad isn't looking so good, so he's going back to bed. I have to get Luka out the door, and I don't think I can drive you. If I give you the fare, can you take the tube? Or maybe get a ride from someone?"

"Who would I get to drive _me_?"

Anya stumbled down the stairs with an even more exhausted-looking Luka in tow. Getting the kid up was a chore at the best of times, and today didn't look like it had been a good day.

"Between the three of you, I'll have a head of grey hair by December," she grumbled, sounding simultaneously annoyed and amused by it all. "Alois, I don't know who would drive you, but you'll be on the train if you don't find anyone."

"Two months ago, you were warning me away from the tube," he pointed it out. He'd used too much soap, he realized, and it would have been good to figure that out sooner than he had. Useless thing to think about, but he did it anyway.

His mother shrugged.

"I think you've already proved yourself mature enough to go places by yourself. How many times have you been on it now?"

"Three. Six if you could returning trips home. But that doesn't mean I like it!" he protested, banging on the counter with a soapy spatula for emphasis. Luka made a face at the presence of a noise more obnoxious than him, and Alois pretended not to see.

"Is there someone I can call while you finish that, then? Or no?" she asked pointedly. He groaned and turned back to the sink.

"I don't have anyone's number. I'll take the train," he said to the plates. He didn't see her shrug, but he almost felt it.

"Aright then. You'll want to get out the door quickly if you're going to get there on time."

And that was the story of how Alois J. Truman found himself wedged in between a disgruntled looking cop and a bespectacled man who stared enough to give even him the heebie-jeebies.

He groaned and put in his headphones so he could drown out a little of the train's buzz. He didn't want to be there, plain and simple, but what else was there to do? He internally cursed his father's headache, mostly, but also himself for failing to get Ciel's phone number so he could get some help. And he was even a little annoyed with a theoretical Ciel because he doubted the boy would _ever_ help him. Fuming, of course, got him nowhere except down a spiral into a foul mood.

Beyond angry, he was pretty rattled by that bloody lunatic in the glasses, once he thought about it. The state of the man's black hair and blacker clothes made it look like he'd been on the streets for a considerable stretch of time, which would have made him nervous regardless. The man had even clumsily painted his nails black too, for heaven's sake, chipping them half to bits through whatever had put him in such a sorry state; it was a strange sight by any standard, so it would put a damper on anyone's morning before the staring came into the equation. Why was Alois so interesting? He turned his music up and tried his best to look anywhere but to his left, but every time he slipped up and did, he caught the man quickly looking away. Eventually he got sick of it, ripping out his headphones and giving his best vampire smile.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you some sort of pervert?" he sweetly asked when he caught the stranger's eyes for the sixth time. He probably could have timed it better, considering he made the police officer choke half to death on his latte, but Spectacles didn't look any worse for wear. Of course, that was a low standard to beat. His expression did get marginally more strained-looking, but that only made him scarier.

"No," he said, without any of the emotions that should have accompanied an accusation like Alois had just dished out. Without any emotion at all, really. He was almost annoyed that he couldn't get a reaction out of him.

"Really? I think you're awfully perverted, staring at me like that. Don't do it again, okay? Or I'll report you to this good fellow," Alois said cheerfully. The cop looked like he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the issue, especially not have it reported to him.

"Rest assured, kid, that I have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever. I happened to be looking your way," he said flatly.

"A lot," Alois pointed out.

"An unfortunate mistake on my part."

"A big one."

"A _very_ big one, then. Stop talking to me."

"Stop staring at me, and I will," he retorted. He wasn't sure he meant it, though. Harassing this stranger was almost as fun as being stared at wasn't. In any case, said stranger trained his eyes very specifically and pointedly forward, and Alois found an end to his fun. The train ride went back to being deeply unpleasant, as Alois was still wedged between a disgruntled-looking cop and a bespectacled stranger who made him uncomfortable, but it was over soon enough. When Alois got off, he could feel the black-haired man staring at him again.

"What a great day," he muttered under his breath. And it was barely eight in the morning. The storm of the previous day had left debris in the street and heavy clouds that reduced all the light into a flat grey thing that made everything look slightly off-kilter somehow. The skyline felt like it was going to fall down on him. The breeze was up, too, and he had to keep his head on an angle to keep all his hair from blowing into his face. He needed a haircut. That was a positive thing to think about, wasn't it? More positive, anyway, and it made avoiding his problems easy. Yes, he needed a haircut. And probably that Ciel, too. He looked like a girl, and he seemed like the sort who would actually mind that. And thinking about Sebastian's hair? That would turn the whole concept into negative thoughts. If anyone needed a haircut that wasn't done looking in the bathroom mirror with safety scissors, it was him.

Actually, scratch that. That _was_ a happy thought. Ciel and Sebastian both were probably utter infants when it came to haircuts.

And speaking of the baby in question, the school loomed ahead like a bad headache waiting to happen. Alois picked up the pace a little, coat flapping around him. By the time he hit the door, he almost slammed into some unlucky classmate from running so fast. His year's lockers were painfully far from the entrance to the school, but if a convoluted route up stairs and around corners could be called a beeline, then Alois made a beeline for Ciel.

"Are you feeling better— hello," Ciel said, catching himself in disorientation as Alois thrust the newspaper article in his face. Alois felt a surge of energy, having a purpose for his actions for once.

"Have you ever seen this woman, Ciel?"

**So yeah, no Hannah for this fic. Sorry to the Annafellows fans out there. In other news, the whole thing with the pancakes is my attempt to mix in some of the anarchic silliness that Black Butler mixes in with all the doom an gloom. When a crisis of national proportions can be solved by Sebastian hopping around in a deer head and making curry, Alois' morning can come down to an issue of pancakes. **

**And ah, the black-haired stranger. I'm going to be a troll and not specify who it is, but I'm sure I've been quite blatant with his identity. All I ****_will_**** say is that the black nails are absolutely 100% polish, and never for a moment real black nails. **


	8. Convenient Inconvenience

**Hey guys! Chapter 8! A bit shorter than the last one, but it is what it is. **

Ciel hated physical education.

He _hated_ physical education.

"Pick up the pace, Ciel!"

And above all, he hated running. What was the point in going round and round in circles like some sort of heart attack-inducing carousel? His legs hurt, his throat _really_ hurt— he could put up with the laps for a while, but once he started feeling like his chest was going to collapse in on itself, he figured enough was enough.

"Mr. Jones," he panted. He stumbled to the side of the gym and hoped his face wasn't as red as he thought it was.

"Good heavens, Ciel. Are you alright?" Jones said instantly. It _was_ as red.

"I can't… can't breathe. My asthma. I need my inhaler," he said as loudly as he could. Jones took one quick look up and down and told him to go sit for as long as he needed to. If Ciel could spare the words, he would have managed a 'thank you.'

He stumbled over to the change room and wondered what madness had possessed him to bury the inhaler in his bag. He'd known they were running.

Never again. Never ever.

After a few minutes, he felt well enough to stagger over to the sink and splash a little cold water in his face. The shock of the temperature only left him hacking again; on top of that, while the inhaler should have at least slowed the latest fit, Alois' sudden appearance left him choking on it.

"What are you doing, Alois? Get back to class," he gasped. Alois unceremoniously thumped him on the back, probably to at least _try_ to help, but he only made it worse. Once his heart rate had gone down a little and he had managed another puff from his inhaler, he glared at him through a haze of not-breathing induced tears.

"That was _not_ helpful. What do you think you're doing?" he said.

"I don't like running. I merely asked to go to the bathroom, unaware that you were here too. Happy?" Alois said defensively.

"You're a dirty liar, Truman, you know that?" Ciel spat. Alois had already been trying to get his attention for the last two blocks, and Ciel had been ignoring him for the last two blocks.

_Pardon my being suspicious, but it's all a little too convenient you're here_, Ciel thought. Alois put a hand on his chest and pulled a face like someone scandalized.

"I'm wounded, my friend. Absolutely wounded."

"I still wouldn't go as far as friends, Alois, not right now. Piss off. I'm not in the mood," Ciel said. All he wanted was a break. Five minutes to himself.

"I didn't get to talk to you earlier. The bell rang," Alois continued, ignoring Ciel's words.

"I don't care! Go away!"

Alois did the computer-reboot blink again and Ciel realized that the scandal he put on was the easiest way to deal with genuine hurt.

"Okay," he said dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Ciel. Really."

He stumbled off, then scooted backwards to the sink.

"Might as well get what I came for," he muttered angrily, dousing his face in the icy water. "Since I'm _only bloody here because I hate running_."

Ciel continued to stare, unable to think of a single thing to say. What _could_ be said?

"Bye," he heard Alois mutter, and then the door slammed. Ciel sighed and eased himself up on the counter so he sit. Did Alois really deserve that? Sure, Ciel had only _just_ recognized the girl from the photograph earlier, but Alois looked like he'd seen a ghost.

He closed his eyes and worked over the discrepancy. If something was so different between the two of them, perhaps it could be ignored. The last thing they needed was to get into a murder case. Alois could be patient.

When his lungs were working properly again, the class was so close to over that he didn't go back.

"So, you feeling alright?"

"Still a little sick. If I didn't know better, I'd call it the flu," Alois said shortly.

"Mm. Well, don't throw up again."

The banter was useless, but it filled the gap between them when they faced each other. Alois hadn't moved on from Ciel's rejection in the change room, and wouldn't do anything until Ciel did it first.

"I looked up GR last night, by the way," Ciel said. He tried to be nonchalant about it, casually give him what he wanted, but Alois saw straight through it. He lit up like a firecracker.

"And?" he said, eyes huge.

"There was nothing useful at all except a site that said it was under modifications, which I only found after going back through six pages of nonsense wrong results," Ciel admitted. Occam's Razor said that what he had found was probably their real site, but it seemed awfully convenient that it be going under repairs right when Ciel had decided to find them.

"So are they an _especially_ secret government group, or just a crew of madmen with a problem with Undertaker?"

"You say that like they can't be both," Ciel said, mouth twisting into a smile. "And I went through my drawings as well. All of them. No more for Sutcliff, but I found one that might be Spears."

"Do you have it with you?"

"In my locker. It's not that important, though. Remember how he kept pushing his glasses up?"

"Yeah, actually," Alois said; his eyes were far away as he stopped seeing the cafeteria and started seeing William T. Spears. "He used his pen instead of his hands. It was weird."

"I know. Same gesture in the drawing. Same glasses too," Ciel said. He decided not to mention that the drawing had featured a nasty-looking spear in the place of a cheap ballpoint. The more he found out about these people, the more menacing they seemed to become.

Alois stared at the table for a long time, turning everything over in his head. The noise of hundreds of people all having a nice day rose up around Ciel as Alois left him functionally alone with his thoughts, and Ciel shuddered at it all. He wanted so much to be like one of these happy fools, and at the same time, he hated it. Doubting himself like this made him want to scream, but if his self confidence was in his own ability to be a good boy, be as perfect and average as he was expected, it didn't seem worth it.

He could be better than that, he figured. Maybe he had a god complex, but being as mixed up in everything as he was made him feel like he was more.

Alois looked up abruptly, with such a wild look in his face that Ciel would have jumped even if the blond hadn't slapped the table.

"I've got it," he said, still looking behind Ciel instead of at him. The expression was so disturbed that Ciel wanted to take that creepy face in his hands and pull Alois back to reality himself.

"What?"

"A way to test this. When you draw, you make it up as you go along, right? Subconscious, not thinking, and all that?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Yes! So you need to draw more. Draw _everything_!" Alois enthused, leaping up. What the hell?

"I can't control something subconscious, Alois. That defeats the purpose of 'subconscious'. What makes you think I'll get anywhere?"

"Well, I'm sure you should think a _little_ bit. I mean, try drawing Sutcliff, but like, not the way you saw her the other day. Just make something up."

"That doesn't even make any sense, Alois," Ciel groaned. He pouted and pulled out a scrap of paper.

"Draw for me. Now," he commanded. Ciel almost punched him for it, but he started scribbling, as obedient as a dog. At first it looked like Sutcliff with the pointy chin, but he couldn't get the glasses right so he erased it and tried drawing Spears. And then the suit looked all wrong — not enough buttons, and what the hell was with that funny little tie?—, and he couldn't figure out why it was wrong when he he wasn't sure what suit he was meant to be drawing anyway. And the hair was all screwy and too messy. And the glasses still looked wrong and the eyes were too small and he still couldn't draw faces right, and—

"Forget this! I can't do this Alois!" Ciel said loudly, shoving the paper to Alois so he wouldn't have to look any it anymore. Alois, on the other hand, looked at it for a very long time.

"It's a start," he said. The voice was as cheerful as Alois could manage, but the face was as uncomfortable and disturbed as it had been all day.

The bell rang with a particularly sepulchral tone that day. Ciel didn't want to keep his drawing or get up, but Alois did both and then hauled Ciel up.

"Come on Ciel. The day isn't over yet," he insisted, equal parts cracked cheerfulness and despondency.

When the walked into the classroom, the usual teacher was gone. In the place of the usual scary tall woman was a handsome young man with two-tone hair and thick black glasses.

"Afternoon, everyone," the young man said brightly. "You can call me Mr. Knox. I'm going to be your sub for a few weeks."

All of a sudden, Ciel's earlier headache blossomed back up on the spot between his eyes.

"Where's Ms Kingsleigh?" someone asked from the back. Knox looked confused.

"Haven't you heard? She got injured playing rugby," he said. "The other teachers said they told her students…?"

"What happened?"

"Her neck's broken," he said nonchalantly. When the class went berserk, as they should have, he held up his hands with his head cocked to the side in embarrassment.

"There's no nerve damage, and she'll be fine. The doctors are expecting a 100% recovery," he corrected." But she's not in the best condition to be teaching, so I'm taking over for a little while."

"How convenient," Ciel groaned, burying his head in his arms. Knox had quite instantly rubbed him the wrong way. What kind of an idiot broke news like that?

"What's that you said?" Knox asked. Ciel sat up too quickly, a chill running up his back.

"You have excellent hearing, Mr. Knox," he said weakly.

_What was that? _Ciel berated himself silently. Knox ran his fingers through his hair and stalked over to Ciel's desk.

"Mr. Payne, is it?" he asked, still in a good mood somehow.

"Yes… yes sir," he mumbled. He wanted to run away. Knox' eyes were the same colour as Sutcliff's and Spears'.

"I hope we'll get along while I'm here, hm?"

"Yes. Sir," Ciel said flatly.

"Good! I like you, kid," he smirked. "As for the rest of you! Roll call!"

He went down the list with blinding speed, and through the lesson the same way. Ciel wasn't paying enough attention to the lesson to notice, but he wasn't entirely sure how much Knox knew what he was talking about. On the one hand, his sentences were roundabout and there was a considerable sense of making it up as he went along. On the other, he went into an awful lot of detail. If nothing else, Knox was a history nut through and through. When he talked about the second world war, Ciel was able to feel sickeningly like he was really there.

It was brilliant. Genuinely, disturbingly brilliant.

Ciel was as wrapped up in the lecture as everyone else, failing to take any notes, but when his eyes wandered over to Alois looking enraptured, he felt like he was physically pulling himself back to reality.

Alois' words pulled on his thoughts, yanking them backwards like a fish on a line. If Knox was causing him trouble like this, he'd draw him the same way he had done with everyone else. He tried to give Knox a withering look as he looked for details, but he noticed, and flashed him a cocky grin mid-speech.

Ciel shuddered and looked down. Forget him. Forget the details. He needed to do this without thinking anyway.

Eventually he erased enough bad lines that he could pretend it looked like a lawnmower.

Wait a minute, a _lawnmower_? What the hell?

This was stupid, a joke. Ciel hated it. Why was it Knox he was drawing anyway?

Alois was still bobbing happily in his seat.

Ciel groaned and put his head down on the table. And he got back up and penciled in a few more lines. Might as well finish the job.

**I feel like every chapter I'm just throwing in more and more characters, but I swear I've got a plan for all this. And, for those of you who don't know, Occam's Razor is a philosophical principle that basically boils down to 'don't make it any more complicated than it needs to be.'**

**See you next week!**


	9. Walk Away, Darling

**Whoo, this turned out to be a long one. Enjoy!**

"Where did you even _find_ this tea, Sebastian?" Ciel asked. His entire mouth tasted dry, like cherry cough lozenges.

"Er… Tesco?" he responded, holding the box up where Ciel could see it.

"It's disgusting," Ciel said flatly. Alois cackled at the rudeness and gulped his own tea down. Sebastian looked deeply irritated, but Ciel wasn't sorry. He wasn't in the mood for sorry. Eventually, Sebastian's scowl shifted over into a weak smile.

"You're not helping your case with the whole 'my lord' business," he said. "You won't be getting anything better, even if you act like a pampered little prince."

"I'm _not_ drinking it," Ciel insisted. "In any case, you know that's not why we're here."

"And here I thought we'd get a nice pleasant cup of tea after your lesson. I'm afraid my Saturdays are all booked already, Ciel. Should've made an appointment," Sebastian said sarcastically. Alois rolled his eyes and cracked a vampire smile.

"Oh, Sebby. You know why we're here," he said poisonously. He never had quite recovered from the lack of sleep 'your highness' had brought, and now Ciel and Sebastian were paying for it twofold. Sebastian looked over his shoulder with a gesture for Alois to _shut up, dammit!_ but his worries were unfounded. Finn had his headphones on, bopping along in a way that just _broadcasted_ how disconnected he was to their conversation.

"Hold on, boys— Finn? You can go home! I'm thinking about closing up early!" Sebastian shouted to the young man behind the counter. His big puppy-dog eyes lit up at the thought, and he ripped his earbuds out with absolute enthusiasm.

"You sure, Mr. Sebastian? I can stick around for a little while longer," he offered, although it was clear to Ciel that he couldn't wait to be gone.

"I'm quite sure. I'm just going to finish up this cup of tea with the boys, and then I'm going to take a little time off for myself. This poor boy was sick the other day and I think I've got whatever he had," Sebastian lied smoothly. Finn winced in obvious sympathy for the conveniently subdued (for once) Alois, and he cheerfully gave Sebastian his well-wishes.

"Don't worry about me, Finn. Do you need train fare?"

"No thank you! Mey-Rin's picking me up this time! We're going to go see a movie now that she's got her glasses fixed!" he said excitedly. "—Oh… right. She's still sorry about that, by the way."

"Think nothing of it. Ciel recovered just fine," Sebastian waved off, although the glib smile looked a lot more like a grimace now. Ciel knew why. That idiot girl had nearly brought the entire building down just by tripping over her own damned feet.

"Oh. Okay! See you next week, boys!"

He literally skipped out the door, and then he left it open and had to come charging back.

"Sorry! Goodbye for real this time!" he said cheerfully, and then he slammed the door hard enough to shake the lights in their sockets. Sebastian looked worn out by just that much. Ciel wasn't sure anymore that he'd have the energy for what he was about to propose.

"That boy is going to be the death of me. If you two don't do it first, that is, which makes me wonder, what madhouse scheme have you come up with now?" he finally asked. Finally alone.

"I realized on the way here that there's only one person who seems to know what's going on," Alois said.

"It's Undertaker. Even without the way that he laughs like the joke's on us, there has to be a reason the GR agents were there," Ciel finished. The very last thing he wanted was to enter that bloody shop for any reason, but now he'd found one persuasive enough.

"And you want to question him," Sebastian said. "Ciel, the GR didn't leave until three _hours_ after we took Alois home and they were _not_ happy. If they couldn't get what they wanted, what makes you think we will?"

"Does it matter? We may as well try, when nothing else has really worked."

"He wasn't exactly welcoming to them, either," Alois pointed out. "If we aren't a band of ruthless government thugs, he may like us! Hell, he may even welcome us in for tea."

Sebastian and Ciel both shuddered at the thought.

"Lets hope it doesn't come to that," Ciel muttered.

It had come to getting invited in for tea. All they had done was walk over, and it was like that bloody fool had read their minds.

_"Well, it's not like I wasn't expecting this. Come on in,"_ he'd said. _"Have a cuppa,"_ he'd said.

What a creep.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said mockingly. "Sorry about the lack of chairs, but these'll do, I'm sure."

He kicked one of the numerous coffins that littered the floor instead of being propped up like the rest of them and it made a distressingly not-hollow sound.

"Ah… thank you," Sebastian said faintly. Alois actually looked like he was going to faint.

"Don't touch _anything_ he gives you," Ciel warned him, leaning close to his ear so Undertaker wouldn't hear. All he achieved was a dirty look and Alois jumping about a foot in the air.

"Don't tell me what to do," he pouted. Still, when Undertaker rummaged out a box of Earl Grey that had been in his cupboard long enough to gather dust, Alois looked appropriately queasy at the sight.

Undertaker sat down on the only chair in the room and plugged his kettle in.

"Well, we all know why you're here," he sighed. "And what a sorry sight you all are. Go on then, spit it out."

"What?" Ciel and Sebastian said at the same time. Undertaker disinterestedly rolled his eyes at them looking over his shoulder at them and turned his attention back to his tea.

"Don't you 'what?' me. You want answers, and those GR fools made it seem like I had them. So ask your questions, if you've actually taken the time to come up with them."

Damn. They had not, in fact, thought this out as well as they thought they had, and had not made any questions that were so precise as a result.

"You're not going to argue with us?"

"I will if you waste my time, but you've still got a few minutes before what you're doing counts."

Sebastian didn't seem to know how to respond to that; Ciel took over.

"Look, we just want to know who these GR people really are, and why they're interested in us. Frankly we just want to know what's going on in general, and we don't seem to be the only ones, but—"

"And really, I'm mostly just confused as to how _you're_ mixed up in all this," Alois piped up. Undertaker slapped his leg and laughed.

"You boys are adorable," he snickered. "Of course, we haven't really discussed the concept of payment yet, now have we?"

What was this, a mob film? Sebastian fumbled out his wallet looking bewildered, and Undertaker held up a hand.

"No thank you. I don't need your money. All I'm interested in is a good laugh," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"What, are you deaf now too? Make me laugh. If I think you're funny enough, I'll answer everything that I can to the best of my ability," he said plainly. Then, as an afterthought, "And I want Ciel to do it."

Holy God, Ciel hoped that whatever was going on wasn't really happening. It all had to be some sort of cruel joke or something.

"What the hell's the matter with you? All you ever do is laugh!" Ciel shouted. Even now, he giggled at the statement.

"Ah, yes. Life is its own greatest joke. But what good is all that? I just want something that _really_ deserves to be laughed at. Is that so wrong?" he leered. "Come now. I _know_ you're secretly funny."

Ciel felt like all the blood in his body was rushing into his face. Alois turned around with a strained look like he was only barely holding back a smile.

"That's right. Come on, then Ciel," he lilted. "Make us laugh."

Even Sebastian looked ready to laugh at him.

"No," he said faintly. This wasn't happening. This _wasn't_ happening.

"I'm sure you're not that worried then," Undertaker said airily. "It's not like I'll tell you for anything else."

Ciel opened and closed his mouth a few times in silent outrage. He didn't even know if Undertaker could tell them anything, and here he was, being made a fool of either way! This wasn't happening.

But….

If it was, no one would ever say Ciel Payne couldn't rise to a challenge.

"Fine. If Undertaker laughs, that's part of the deal. You two do _not_ laugh," Ciel growled. Alois looked like he was fighting back joyful tears just from Ciel's warning.

"And if you film this, I'll kill you," he added. Alois wasn't subtle about playing with his phone.

He took a deep breath. He knew a few jokes, didn't he? He could handle this.

Then the door's bell rang someone coming in and Ciel nearly had a heart attack. Why now, of all times, was Undertaker finally getting some business?

"I must tell you, my friend, I'm getting very tired of—_shit_!"

Sutcliff. Ready to raise hell and panicking now that she had. Undertaker sighed and exasperatedly set his head in his hands at the sight of the gawking government agent.

"You are such a bloody moron, Grell. You know that, right? It's hilarious," he said, collapsing into giggles by the end of his sentence. She could have exploded then and there.

"'Grell?' What kind of a nickname is that?" Alois said in disbelief. Ciel couldn't quite join him in his good humour. He rubbed his forehead as pain blossomed back up, and behind his eyes he could see that demented drawing again, a murderer with a chainsaw. Sebastian looked similarly incapacitated, which in turn only made Ciel more worried.

Wrapped up in her own panic, Sutcliff opened and closed her mouths several times for a lack of something to say.

"I— I— hello boys," she croaked, voice at its natural male pitch thanks to the sheer terror 'Grell' had accidentally caused herself.

"Grell?" Sebastian said softly, sounding painfully bewildered. A person could almost hear the fuses blowing in his head. Despite all this, Sutcliff swooned at his gentle voice.

"_Oh_, the number of times I— bleh! Snap out of it!" she spat at herself, clapping her face between her palms. "No, no, _no_!"

For all his befuddlement, the idiotic expression on Sutcliff's face pulled Ciel out of his haze.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. Sutcliff narrowed her eyes and tossed her hair disdainfully.

"I think _I'm_ the one who should be asking what _you're_ doing here," she countered. "In fact, I _do_ recall very specifically telling _someone_ not to talk to these clowns."

The last part was accompanied by Sutcliff storming across the room, high-heels clacking, and leaning as far over Undertaker as she could. It was _met_ with a shrug.

"Don't be like that, dearie," he leered. "I thought we were friends."

Sutcliff made her offence theatrically visible, tossing her hair again and pouting.

"Don't make me laugh. You've spent too much time shut up in this bloody shop, my _dear_," she growled. "You've lost your touch."

Undertaker's face was still shaded under his Indiana Jones knock-off, but when the grin crumbled in on itself, the rage that emanated off of him was visible nonetheless.

"Watch your tongue, boy," he hissed, finally standing up straight. If anything, _Sutcliff_ was more clearly angered by this. What part of Ciel wasn't confused noticed how personal the argument was getting. For all the professional posturing Sutcliff and Spears had put on the other day, they clearly knew each other, although just how seemed to change from cheap comment to cheap comment.

"Why— you— you—," Sutcliff stuttered, enraged. With a bizarrely squeaky sort of growl, Sutcliff wrenched her attention back to her audience.

"You lot have until the count of three to clear off. I am in a _very_ bad mood, and I have been _very_ good lately. It'd be an awful shame to spoil that streak," she spat.

"Or what? You'll kill us?" Ciel asked, then clapped a hand over his mouth. Dear God, had he really said that out loud? Even Alois was appalled.

Still, one way or another, two ideas stuck in his head. One was the name 'Grell" and the other was the though that the person with that name be quite happy tearing them apart. The threatening speech she'd just given only served to drive the point home.

Sutcliff just laughed at all this, sending shivers up Ciel's spine.

"Oh, you're such a _smart_ kid," she snarled, but for all the anger in her voice, there was still an air of restraint in the choked tone and strained expression. She _still_ wasn't telling them everything.

"Am I? I think I'm missing something. Tell me what I'm missing, Grell," he commanded, clawing confidence back.

"Don't be stupid."

"Come on!"

She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

"_Hoo, boy_. You really are twelve kinds of delightful, you know that? I'm not telling you anything, and I know you know it, so stop asking!"

"Then tell me," Sebastian said suddenly. Sutcliff briefly snapped to attention, enchanted with the idea, before reasserting some semblance of being professional.

"Oh, darling, you have no idea how much fun that'd be, but _no_. I'm under orders. _No_ _one_ finds out what we're working on."

"Except him," Sebastian pointed out. Undertaker waved cheekily, which was helpful, Ciel supposed.

"Forget him. You've clearly lived next to him for long enough to know he's not exactly normal, and neither are his circumstances. But you, Sebastian. You probably know better than I that you're all nice and ordinary, so what makes you think I'd make an exception for you?"

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but _you_ seem to be the one with a schoolgirl crush on me," he said bitingly. He even leaned in a little, and after a beat of infatuated hesitation, Sutcliff gasped in white-faced fury.

"If I'm the one in love, then I've got terrible taste in men, apparently," she hissed. "Get _out_ of my face. You're a downright scoundrel, you know that?"

"And yet, you're still talking to me. A handsome scoundrel, I'm sure," he snarked.

"You said it, darling, not me. If you're trying to make me angry, I don't understand the angle."

"Because its an embarrassment. You've got a job to do, and here you are, making an idiot out of yourself for me," Sebastian said. She flinched then, but contained it. Ciel was ready to tell Sebastian to stop, but the man was on a roll. Somehow, she'd actually gotten him angry, and then she was even worse. Maybe if they were lucky, she'd get furious enough to let something else slip, but the feeling that they'd been made fools of was justification in itself to torment someone who caused it.

Still, he hadn't seen this before. Sebastian was scarier than he thought.

"I don't think I like you. You're not... kind," she said, disdainful to him, but with an air of reprimanding herself so saying something so weak.

"Good. Clap me in irons, then, for mucking around?" Sebastian said, motioning like handcuffs with a mocking smile. "Isn't that what you government types do when someone doesn't cooperate? Bastards, the lot of you."

"Don't lump me in with those fools. I'm better than that."

"And yet you let slip your lack of affiliation with them," he said triumphantly. "We already know you people aren't really the government."

The last bit was a bluff at best, but it worked. Sutcliff went whey-faced in panic and stuttered out a couple incoherent excuses.

"Can't even save yourself. What kind of secret agent are you, letting slip everything to me? It's pathetic, the mess you've let yourself get into," Sebastian sneered. That was too much for Sutcliff; she aimed a slap at Sebastian's face with a cry, and no one was more surprised than Sebastian himself when he caught her hand four shaking inches from his face.

Sebastian scarcely had the necessary motor skills to _drive_.

"What the hell?" they said in disconcerting unison. Undertaker's leer was wiped off his face.

"Sebastian? How did you do that?" Ciel said in spite of himself. Undertaker's head snapped so fast into Ciel's direction that he could hear his neck go crick.

"''How did you do that?'" he repeated. "You mean he couldn't— oh. That's not good."

Sutcliff looked back and forth between Undertaker and Sebastian, and with a choked sound that might have indicated either regret or panic, abruptly aimed a sucker punch at Sebastian.

"Agent! Stop it!" Ciel shouted. He needn't have worried; Sebastian neatly sideswiped the blow and even caught Sutcliff by her jacket before her momentum sent her to the floor.

"Okay, that's _not_ good!" Undertaker exclaimed. Sebastian yanked Sutcliff the rest of the way up with a blanched expression.

"I'm sorry?" he said. Sutcliff shook her head aggressively.

"No! Don't apolo— in_deed_!" she sputtered. "What was _that_?"

Undertaker strode over to Sebastian in two sharp steps, shoving Sutcliff out of the way.

"How long have you been able to do that?" he snarled, pointing a razor of a finger at Sebastian. He hastened backwards, and the only good thing that came out of his tripping over his own feet was a minor return to normalcy.

"I don't know how I did that! It was an accident!" Sebastian protested from the floor. Undertaker turned his back in a swirl of ill-fitting clothes and clenched his teeth.

"_Not_ good," he hissed.

"Undertaker, enough. I have the reflexes of a _child_. Someone tries to toss me something, it hits me in the face. I don't know what kind of fluke that was, but I can assure you that whatever it is your worried about is useless! I don't know how I did that!" Sebastian shouted, hauling himself up with a level of clumsiness that, combined with his words, just seemed downright ironic. They fell on deaf ears, though, with Undertaker and Sutcliff having retreated to themselves. However much Ciel strained himself trying to hear, they were quite determined to evade him.

"… can't argue with me now—"

"We're dealing with this later, Grell."

"Like hell we are! And don't you call me that!"

"I'll call you whatever I please, Grell, and do you know why?"

"I know I don't _care_."

"Because everything was under control until the princess waltzed in."

"Under control meaning you were going to blab! _Again_!"

All this nonsense in a series of harsh whispers and not-so furtive glances backwards.

"Stop doing that! Would you idiots please just talk to us!" Alois screeched. Sutcliff actually put her hands over her ears.

"What right do you think you have to speak to us like that?" Undertaker accused. Ciel's laugh was harsh and without the slightest trace of humour.

"He has every right, you pompous arse! We aren't stupid! We know this all hinges on us, _not_ you!" Ciel shouted. Sutcliff buried her head in her hands.

"I _knew_ I should never have signed up for this," she moaned. "Nothing but trouble, you three!"

She looked up from her misery, only to clap a hand over her mouth.

"Who's the loudmouth now, dearie?" Undertaker leered.

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped. "This isn't my fault this time."

"Indeed. This time. And you know what? I've had enough. If you want to continue this rare streak of _not_ cocking thing up, get these people, and _yourself_ out of my shop."

The pitch of outraged harmony Alois and Sutcliff accidentally produced could have shattered a window if half of them weren't already covered in greasepaper, and Ciel wasn't much better off.

"How dare— Sebastian, what are you doing?" Ciel said. The violinist stomped over to Sutcliff and pointed a finger in her garish face.

"I think I'm going to make you angry again, and I'm not going to waste my time doing it this time. I'm very tired of this game. I've been losing sleep, and I want answers," he said in cold fury. Sutcliff stared for a beat as she pondered how she could respond to something like that, but her face split in a lazy smile and she raised one eyebrow.

"Losing sleep over me, hm? Who's the fool now?" she drawled. It was a hostile sort of flirtation. "I don't care what you have to say. One more word to you, and I'll be demoted. Get out of my way, or I might make good on what Ciel here said. Back. Off."

She didn't wait for him to obey instructions, instead shoving him to the side and striding off without much grace.

"Oh, and Undertaker, darling? Fuck you," she said sweetly. She blew a somehow murderous kiss at the room and slammed the door behind her. Undertaker groaned and slumped over, despondently pulling the hood of his coat over his hat and face.

"I truly do hate living people. You're all a crowd of fools," he mumbled. In a hairpin emotional turn, he snapped up and pulled his kettle off of its heater where it had been steadily whistling away for the better part of ten minutes and poured it into a mug that didn't have a teabag in it.

"Its getting late, by the way. Mind if we continue this another day?" he added. Ciel could have exploded.

"You haven't told us anything yet!"

"And you cease to amuse me. I can't imagine you'd possibly make me laugh after that," he pointed out. "Really, if you could even manage a smile yourself, I'd be astounded."

Ciel wanted to scream, but the sight of Alois' lip wobbling made him stop dead.

"Please be reasonable, sir. We don't know what's happening, and we're scared," he said carefully, quietly. Alois stared at Ciel with red eyes, and the tiniest of smiles graced his features.

"You've gone without answers long enough. One more day won't matter. I doubt you'd believe a word I said anyway."

"Why not?" Sebastian said peevishly.

"Well, without giving too much away, my theories boil down to curses, necromancy, mad science and someone who has _serious_ problems with my friends there," he said cheerfully, gesturing at the door like Sucliff was actually a friend. Ciel shuddered at every word. The man was a lunatic, and all he cared about was watching everyone dance for him, but anyone would think such things were ominous, wouldn't they?

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" Sebastian asked. Undertaker looked up, and Ciel finally caught a glimpse of his whole face. Where he'd expected to see laughter, all there was was cold anger, and, disconcertingly, fear.

"Where's the fun in that? If taking this situation seriously means ending up like you three, I'll smile as much as I please," he said softly. He pulled his hat back down over his eyes and got up to open the door.

"I'll still be here if you want answers, always. I have information for everyone who wants it, but I'll tell you now that you _do not_ want it. Much of what I have to say is almost undoubtedly wrong, and what I do know is correct is nothing you will like hearing, and it will get a lot of people very angry with the four of us. I won't say this again," he said. He stood there, truly serious for maybe the first time Ciel had ever seen. He opened the door and held it for them.

"Do yourselves a favour and get out now. Move to the other side of town, stop speaking to each other. Leave the problem to Grell and William. They don't look like it, but they know what they're doing, and certainly a lot better than us. Even I don't know why you three are together, but I doubt it's anything good. So leave it alone."

A speech was the last thing Ciel had expected, and a warning was the last thing he wanted. How dare he tell them to leave their own lives alone?

But what else could he do? For once it seemed sincere.

"Sorry to have wasted your time, sir. We'll be on our way," Sebastian said coldly. He ushered Alois out the door and left Ciel to walk. He stopped to stare at Undertaker as he went, and all he got was an overwhelming sense of….

Well, what it was wasn't clear, but whether Undertaker pitied, hated, or was amused by Ciel, he felt it very strongly.

"Goodbye, Undertaker."

"And to you, boy," he said gravely. Ciel hurried out as fast as he could, where Alois and Sebastian were waiting. Alois looked absolutely dead-on-his-feet tired.

"I'm very sorry for coming up with that idea and I won't do it again, he said. The blond boy looked like he really meant it, tearing himself to pieces with guilt over that nonsense.

"You were only trying to help, Alois," Sebastian groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Jesus Christ. I really do have a headache now. I'm going to get some sleep. If you boys have any sense, I think you will as well."

They said their goodbyes muttering, and Ciel payed so much attention to it that he didn't notice Alois wandering away by himself.

"Slow down there, cowboy," he said, grabbing the collar of his coat.

"Okay."

There was nothing Ciel could grasp on in that response that would let him continue a conversation, so he tried his best to make a new one.

"Well, that was a bloody waste of my time," he grumbled. Alois still wasn't listening.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," he breathed, eyes still far away. Ciel looked over to where he started, but all he caught was the back of a head rounding the corner.

"You look like you've seen a ghost Alois."

The blond boy gave a watered-down laugh and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Odd that you should phrase it that way, my friend," he said. He refused to say anything else.

**ooh, intrigue. Scary.**

**(I kid. Intrigue, what intrigue? This is rambly fan fiction)**

**The next update might be a little late because schoolwork is increasing and the next chapter is proving downright painful to write, but I've already finished the one after ****_that_****, and it's going to be a doozy, I swear. So just... bear with me. **

**Also, I'm working on some drawings if you're all curious as to the outfits and whatnot. I'll post a link in the next update (although, I'm no da Vinci)**

**See ya!**


	10. Hoping For 'No'

**Late, as promised, but I'll admit wasn't overly pleased with this chapter. I must've rewrote it about four or five times, and ****_now_**** I like it, but it's here either way. And maybe this is neurotic overcompensation, or maybe it's being overly pleased by my own work, but this is a double update. **

**I'm far too pleased with myself, it's the second one. **

**Either way, enjoy!**

Sebastian hadn't slept. Even after he'd specifically said that he was going home for the express purpose of sleeping, the man admitted to having gotten two hours of sleep out of the twenty-four available since the last time Alois had seen him. It was hilarious, seeing him stumble around; he was the sort that got all clumsy when he was tired, but at the same time, Alois thought it might be—

"Alright, Sebastian? As someone with chronic problems sleeping, it's worth mentioning that that was a _terrible_ idea," Alois piped up. Sebastian shrugged and continued polishing his glasses. With them off, the dark circles under his eyes were in sharp relief.

"I'm well aware, Alois, and I'm sure I'll regret it later. However I think I can justify it considering we have a lead with Grell," Sebastian said plainly. In spite of himself, Alois' heart quickened in excitement.

"A lead! This is great! What'd you find?"

"Not much, admittedly, but it's a start," he shrugged. He yanked off a glove with his teeth and started leafing through a bulging folder. Ciel's eyes widened when he saw the label on it.

"Sebastian? What's that?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Ah… a file I made on the issue. Including everything I know so far," he said sheepishly. Ciel clattered his mug onto the table and rubbed his eyes. The file had to have a hundred pages in it.

"I don't know whether to be impressed or embarrassed," he said, looking down. "Just… how?"

Alois had to hand it to Sebastian; he was awfully committed about the whole thing.

"If I couldn't handle this much…" he began, before trailing off with a shiver. "Never mind. Point being, look at this."

Ciel wouldn't let it go.

"Sebastian? Why _is_ it that you didn't sleep?" he accused.

"Didn't end up being tired, and there was too much work to do anyway. Reading please, Ciel."

Alois giggled at Ciel under his breath and leaned over the page; a printout of a Wikipedia page on a doctor named Angelina Dalles. Not much interesting about her, just that she was quite the overachiever as a woman doctor in the Victorian Age.

"'Madam Red?' That's original," Alois snorted. The photographs weren't in colour, but the painting certainly drove the whole 'red' thing home. Sebastian smiled thinly, and Ciel did nothing but scowl.

"Don't even get me started on Madam Red. You wouldn't believe the headache I got reading up on her. I don't think she's involved, though, I only found her by accident looking for Grell. Keep going."

Sebastian had highlighted a passage by hand, in red pen of all things. Not much there either, just one little caption under a group photo.

"… _shown here with business acquaintance Lau and butler Grell Sutcliff_— damn!" Alois swore. The grainy photograph did little good, and the wimp in the photograph looked a lot more like a hopeless case than the hyperactive gender-bender of the previous day, but how often did a person stumble across a name like 'Grell?'

"Who the hell is he?" Ciel said, rubbing his temples. "And who is _she_? Is she important?"

"Madam Red doesn't seem to be involved the same way everyone else is. Think about it. We all feel a wave of nostalgia once in a while, but have you ever met anyone quite like Angelina Dalles?"

"Never," Alois said, certain for once. Ciel shook his head wordlessly and continued to stare holes in the printout.

"Lau…" he muttered. "Whatever. What happened to _this_ Grell Sutcliff?"

"Vanished without a trace after Madam Red was brutally stabbed to death with an unidentifiable weapon," Sebastian said gravely. "Quite a lot of people pinned him as a suspect, but no one ever came forward with evidence, and he was never seen again."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Ciel said.

"That doesn't look like a particularly trustworthy face," Alois agreed. Sebastian flipped though his file and pulled something else out.

"Once I knew to look for Madam Red, I still only got a little further. Grell Sutcliff of the 1880s has no birth records and no information besides his time with Angelina Dalles. That's not what I'm talking about, though. Look at _this_," Sebastian instructed. The thin novel he had in hand had taken up most of the space in the file, but it didn't look relevant.

"'The Tale of Will the Reaper?'" Ciel said in obvious disgust. Alois didn't see what was so wrong; it looked like a lovely book, when Ciel handed it to him.

"Don't look so disappointed Ciel. I had to go to three rare bookstores and pay an arm and a leg to get that," Sebastian warned. Ciel's eyes widened at the thought of the tatty piece of junk costing what Sebastian suggested, and Alois' stomach churned. The printers' date was from the 1970s, but the author's note said the story was roughly two hundred years old.

"It's illustrated. Turn to the back. Author's preliminary notes," Sebastian said. Alois did as he was told, moving the pages as delicately as he could when it felt like the book would bite him. For all his carefulness, he nearly chucked the book across the room when he saw what was there.

"It's him! It's Spears!" he shrieked. Not again. How many more bloody drawings was he going to have to put up with?

"Almost in the flesh," Sebastian affirmed, peeling Alois' fingers off the cover so he could pass the book along. "This is a very peculiar book, as it's apparently _impossible_ for us to have anything that _isn't_ peculiar. The author got hit by a cart and died on the way to the publishers office, but an unknown benefactor pieced the manuscript back together and arranged for a post-mortem publication, including the author's notes."

This was all a little too cloak-and-dagger for Alois. He plucked the book out of Ciel's hands for another look.

"Spears was an actor?" he read out. That stiff? Surely there had to have been some sort of mistake.

"That's what that writer thought. There's reference to someone that might've been Sutcliff too. Said they approached him in the park babbling nonsense about being grim reapers of all things," Sebastian said. Alois had to read that particular package a few times to make sure he'd heard it right. Well, that explained the whole 'Will the Reaper' thing.

"Let me guess. The Sutcliff of the pair was the one making an idiot out of himself," Ciel snarked. Alois looked down at the book and studied the cheapie drawing of Spears' partner. It didn't look nearly as similar. The hair was too short. Alois' eyes wandered over to the notes, cramped handwriting looking worse in reprint, and after considerable time, he had read enough to say something.

"Actually, it makes quite clear that it was Will," Alois mumbled. Imagine that, Will having more personality than a block of wood. What a refreshing thought. Ciel blew a sigh out the side of his mouth.

"I don't… I just… Christ," he breathed. "Sebastian, how did you find this?"

"I googled 'William T Spears' and 'Gretchen Sutcliff.' It wasn't difficult," Sebastian shrugged. "I'm a lot more capable than you give me credit for, _my lord_."

Was it just Alois thinking it, or was that nickname losing its mocking edge?

He looked back down at the paper and Undertaker's words from the previous night came back to him in sharp relief.

Curses, necromancy and mad science. Wasn't that what he called it? And call Alois paranoid, but necromancy felt sickening convenient in terms of explaining everything that had happened to them.

"Why, though? What does all this mean?" Alois said. Sebastian and Ciel stared at him. It was a simple question.

"It's not like we need to have anything so specific yet. The more information—"

"Shut up, Ciel! I want to know!" Alois snapped. "I'm tired of this! I want my answers _now_!"

He sounded like such a child. They heard it too.

"What do you propose, then?" Ciel said peevishly.

"Last time I had an idea, you all thought I was going mad," he retorted. "And you know what? If I say what's on my mind, you'll do it again!"

Alois thought back to Luka's words regarding his sanity and hoped beyond hope that he was right.

"Don't shout, Alois," Sebastian chided.

"I'll shout if I want to!"

"Then for God's sakes, just tell us what you think! No point getting so upset about it!" Ciel scowled. Alois drew himself up and prepared to be mocked.

"Fine! I'll say it again! We're some sort of experiment!"

Even though he'd been expecting it, their reactions still hurt. No one rolled their eyes quite like Ciel Payne.

"Alois, we talked about this," Sebastian said carefully.

"And so what if we did? If it's not the government, and even I can't believe that anymore, there's someone else who's making a fool out of us! Remember what Undertaker said?"

"That man said an awful lot of things, and I wouldn't trust a single one of them," Ciel said coldly.

"He blamed it on _magic_," Alois ploughed through. "On _necromancy_, Ciel! Now, we've got a pair of shady agents with _grim reaper _doppelgängers from two hundred years ago and no explanation for either of them, and we've been feeling from the beginning like we've met before. The symbols that string us together are bloody _satanic_, and the rest of the drawings aren't much better! I know you don't want to believe in it, but we're running out of explanations!"

Alois breathed hard after his speech, exhausted from something that felt like it shouldn't have worn him out at all. The only response Ciel could manage was a hard stare, his face pale and wan. Sebastian stared ever harder, but his eyes were wide and fearful instead of dryly furious like Ciel's.

"We ought to be leaving," Ciel said, making a show of looking at his watch when both he and Alois knew they had scarcely been there twenty minutes. Sebastian nodded and began leafing through his file again.

"Quite. When do you think we should meet up for this again?" he responded. Alois wanted to cry. How foolish could they possibly be? If Alois was being childish, believing in some sort of curse, then childish he would be, but they were running out of options that were grown-up!

"What do you mean 'this?'" Alois said reflexively, although by this point, Sebastian already wasn't listening.

"Busy Monday… Tuesday's out— do you want to come over on Wednesday? Work on this a bit more?" he muttered behind his ledger. Ciel stopped cold and groaned. Alois took a very roundabout sort of pleasure in seeing him put off.

"I don't know if I can. Mother's pretty suspicious about the sudden increase in social activity. At this rate, she probably thinks I'm hiding a girlfriend or something," he said. Alois let loose a snicker. How wrong could a person get? Sebastian clearly thought it was funny too, ruffling Ciel's hair with a smirk.

"We're all very sympathetic to your plight," he said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I mean, a girlfriend? You haven't even told your parents yet?" Alois teased. Ciel gaped at him for a moment while the gears turned in his head, but once Alois' words dawned on him, Sebastian was the only thing standing between Ciel, Alois, and the one's swift death at the hands of the other. His hand shot out and grabbed Ciel's collar faster than any of them could blink.

"Let me go, Sebastian! I— oh, hell!" he realized. Alois realized it too, and he was a lot more scared of it than he was about Ciel's pathetic attempt to put his skinny little hands around his neck.

Sebastian tried to hide it, ever the bloody stoic, and he let go of Ciel's collar as abruptly and with as uncanny of reflexes as he had grabbed it.

"I do apologize," Sebastian said quickly. Ciel moved like a bird ruffling its feathers and scowled.

"It's fine. I'm going home," he said shortly.

"Right."

Ciel stumbled around, picking up his coat and his shoes with a flustered air, and Alois followed him around feeling vaguely uncomfortable. It was like his own skin didn't fit, or like his head was filled with bees. It all made him want to cry a little, but he didn't really know why, so for the sake of doing _something _unpleasant, he began to giggle under his breath.

"Stop it," Ciel snapped. That hadn't taken long.

"Sorry."

He continued his rounds to gather his things; Alois wondered how he could possibly have made such a mess. It wasn't fair of Ciel to do this to him, though, to leave him with his thoughts. The longer he followed, the stranger they seemed to become. Over and over, all he could think about was what he had said and hadn't said. If he'd pointed out one more detail, phrased himself like someone who knew what he was talking about instead of like a half-mad child, he could have should have would have gotten a better reaction. Tell them of his own nightmares, talk about Sebastian's reflexes right before they'd seem them again, even speak of Luka for God's sake.

Why hadn't he told them about Luka?

Ciel had finally gathered his jackets, never mind that he shouldn't have strewn them in the first place, and he nearly left without a word of farewell to Sebastian. If nothing else, that frightened Alois.

"Bye-bye, Sebastian!" Alois hollered, taking a sledgehammer to their silence. Ciel's face went red at Alois' lack of subtlety, and he _just_ managed to stammer out a "goodbye."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Alois asked. Ciel slammed the door. Alois ceased to feel better.

"Why do you have to make everything so much more complicated?" he asked. Alois didn't have an answer for that. Ciel scoffed through his teeth in irritation and started walking in the direction of the train station without another word. Alois tried, he _really_ tried, to follow, but he found himself falling further and further behind. Undertaker's words still played in his head. And so did Sebastian's expression.

Alois couldn't stand it anymore. He had to ask.

"Wait, Ciel! I forgot something!"

Alois had never met anyone so stupid as himself. Why was he even opening his mouth? Why ask?

"Well, go on then. I can wait," Ciel said. His expression conveyed quite clearly how his point regarding "complicated" was proven, and how irritated he was that it had.

"Thank you!"

Alois sprinted back, for fear that he'd decide he didn't want to do it if he waited, but he almost slammed into the door. He had to stop doing that.

"Sebastian?" he called. The violinist poked his head around a corner expectantly, and groaned at the sight of him.

"Alois, this really isn't the time. You should go home," he said shortly. He had a bow in his hands, and he was cleaning it to the point that it looked like he was only doing it to keep his hands busy.

"I know, I should. And I will. But before I do, can I ask you something?" Alois said, feeling foolish for even speaking. Sebastian's dirty look didn't help.

"Yes?"

Alois gulped, and took a deep breath.

"About what Undertaker said. Yesterday. Say you believed in… magic, and all that nonsense, and I'm not saying you do! I know it's stupid!" Alois babbled. "But if you _did_, do think that's what this could be?"

Sebastian's mouth pressed into a cold line of every negative emotion Alois could think of.

"We'll discuss this some other time, Alois. I'm not prepared to factor the supernatural into this equation," he said coldly. Alois hung his head and nodded deferentially.

It wasn't a 'no.'

**Also, I remember I said I was doing design drawings, and I forgot. I know I'm not even obligated to, or by anything, but I'm just so pleased that people are reading this silly thing at all that I keep wanting to do stuff. I don't know what, but you people all deserve a hug, and possibly also a cookie. Thank you!**


	11. The Stranger and the Strange

The little bell rang mournfully when he opened the door, but Alois was still in a more or less in a good mood. More or less.

"Bye Sebastian!" he shouted.

"Take care, boys! Don't stay outside long," he warned. Ciel scowled again when Alois caught up again, although Alois didn't know whether it was his fault or Sebastian's.

"Are we leaving now, then?" he said coldly. Alois cracked a smile and leaned over him.

"Of course. Race you to the train station!" he shouted in his face, and then he took off running, blowing a raspberry for good measure. It didn't take long for Alois to notice how Ciel poked along, slow as could be. Hadn't he wanted to get going? He was no fun, but why should Alois wait?

And then there was a human wall to slam into, and his head hit the ground so hard that the first thing he noticed was the sound of it, not the pain. How many times had he been told not to run without looking? He'd probably be told that again right away considering he'd just slammed into someone a lot bigger than he was.

"Watch where you're going you bast— what the _fuck_?" Alois spat. _Now_ his head was spinning. It was the man with the glasses _again_. And he was already scrambling to his feet like he had a ghost on his heels, only to freeze when he saw just who he'd knocked flat.

"Alois! What are you— get inside, now!" he said. Alois felt like all the blood in his veins had been replaced with antifreeze, cold and poisonous.

"What's going on? How do you know my name?"

"Alois," Ciel croaked, finally catching up. Alois wanted him to shut up, _please_, but he still felt bad for him. The headache he'd been complaining about for the last few days had seemed to increase tenfold with the appearance of the bespectacled stranger; Ciel was on his knees now, knuckling his forehead.

"It doesn't matter right now. I don't know if it's safe, and I am not going to be the one to fall victim to that," the stranger said, unceremoniously pulling Ciel and Alois to their feet only for Ciel to go stumbling back down.

"I'm not moving until you explain something! Who the hell are you?" Alois screamed, eyes hot with tears. First the train, then the other night on the street corner at Undertaker's. And Ciel's bloody drawing, looking like him! Someone needed to explain all this, dammit!

"I'm Cl— Cl— Cl—" the stranger stuttered, almost seeming like 'choking on his words' was literal. He shook his head furiously and finally forced out, "Claude. Claude Faustus."

"Oh, I'm going to be sick," Alois gagged. Claude, indeed.

"I know. Now come _on_," Claude Faustus said.

"Who are these people?"

"I don't know and you don't want to find out. Get. In. Side."

There was so much sternness in his voice that he would have done it even if he didn't want to. But holy hell, Alois wanted to. Claude scared him, no doubt about it, but that fear fell short of the terror towards whatever had put him in such a state.

"Come on Ciel," he said softly. Ciel looked somewhere between incredulous and murderous, but he managed to haul himself to his feet.

"If you don't throw up first, I think I might," he groaned. "On _you_."

They barely got up one step before Sebastian came thundering out the door.

"What the— hey, I know you!" he exclaimed. Claude strode forward and yanked off his thick wool hat to reveal hair that was probably meticulously styled once, but had since grown out into something embarrassing with time on the street.

"I've been loitering. I do apologize," he said quickly. "And I hate to do this to you during a first encounter, but I haven't eaten in two days."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows in shock, then furrowed them again in irritation.

"Who do you think you are, sir? And what do you want?" he demanded.

"I'm Claude Faustus, you're Sebastian Michaelis. Pleasure to see you face to face."

Sebastian was speechless for once as Claude rushed past him to the biscuit tin, shedding tatty scarves and layers as he went. The gloves were quite literally off now, and Claude's nails were still caked in that awful black lacquer from the other day.

"I think you've made some sort of mistake? Mr. Faustus?" Sebastian tried to say. "My name is Michaels, I'll have you know."

Ha. Of all the things to notice, when some lunatic tramp was in his house, devouring bad cookies without bothering to sit down. On a less funny note, the longer Alois looked at him, the longer he felt like he was in some sort of vertigo-inducing funhouse. Even the name alone was like a bell in his mind. Or a klaxon.

"This is about Hannah Annafellows, isn't it?" Alois guessed. Claude stopped with his mouth full and gulped them down audibly. Somehow the motion felt off.

"Yes," he said. "I—

"Hold on! You knew Annafellows?" Ciel interrupted. Claude gave him a disturbingly familiar peeved look.

"Indeed. While she'd likely object to the term, we were friends," he responded. His hand shook as he put the lid back on the tin, and the rattling drew Alois' attentions back to the blackened nails.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing. Claude raised a hand to look like he'd forgotten the paint was there.

"That is a very good question, Alois. Nail varnish certainly seemed like good idea at the time," he said softly. Out of the corner of his eye, Alois could see Sebastian flex his own hand with considerable discomfort.

"Lets start over. Claude, whatever your name is, sit down. Tell us why you've been following Alois," Ciel instructed. With the rebellious expression Claude gave, Alois thought he was going to disobey, but he sat down, biscuit tin still in hand.

"It's a long story. You you have any water?"

"Yes. You can have anything really. Tea?" Sebastian offered. God. They'd only just met, and Alois had never heard so much loathing in such a small amount of words.

"I think I'll have some," Claude said, equally venomous. Sebastian stormed over to put the kettle on, and Alois settled down in front of the vagabond stranger. It was high time they had a chat.

"How did you _not_ eat for two days?" Alois asked.

"It's surprisingly simple when there's no money in your pocket, and your state of mind allows you to quite literally forget that food is necessary," he said. That was not a fun answer. Time to change the subject again.

"Why were you following me, Claude?" he asked. He was almost glad Claude was involved in whatever-this-was. If he'd been an ordinary stalker, Alois was quite certain he'd have gotten killed by now.

"As you know, there are forces out of our control right now. Hannah was proof of that," he began. His fingers were restless, tap-tapping on the armchair so fast they blurred.

"You don't say?" Ciel cut in. "Get to the point, Mr. Faustus."

"I have _many_ theories as to what's going on, Ciel. I've been actively working on this for much longer than you have, and I had an equally knowledgable partner."

"Hannah."

"Hannah," he agreed. "We ran into each other when we both tried to pickpocket the same man, oddly enough. Two homeless, unattached tramps. We subsequently caused each other's nervous breakdowns, certainty into doubt and unfamiliarity into instant knowledge of each other. For reasons that remain somewhat unclear, we knew things about each other that we had barely known ourselves, and constantly experienced deja vu in each others' presence. We found out about you three about two and a half months later. Hannah was trying to get into contact with your brother when she was shot—"

"Stop it. Stop, stop right there!" Alois shouted. Claude remained unfazed.

"Yes, Alois?"

Alois repeated those words in as much of a bitter tone as he could, and _now_ there was a grimace from that hateful tramp.

"Luka is _not_ involved. You stay away from him," he hissed.

"Don't lie to yourself. You already know he's a part of this," Claude said. A lump rose up in Alois' throat. God, he was crying already.

And he cut it off; Ciel put a hand on his shoulder and glared at Claude for him. Alois was going to get a talking to about Luka later, no doubt.

"Regardless of anyone's opinions on Luka, what did Hannah want with him?" Sebastian asked. Claude groaned at the thought.

"It's worth noting I tried to talk her out of it. I said we didn't know enough yet to talk to anyone. But she said, and I promise I am not lying, that she was 'worried about him.'"

And, back to crying. God. She should not have known Luka. She should _not_ have been worried about him. But she had, and Alois got the feeling that that fact was worth remembering.

"Alois, calm down. What happened after Hannah?" Ciel said. Why did _he_ get to be all calm? That was just unfair.

"I realized I wasn't safe anymore. Whoever is responsible for our situation had realized what we know. Knew. I had the luck, good or bad, to run into Alois on the train, and I recognized him thanks to my own mental state and the research I had done."

"You were staring at me on purpose, then!" Alois shouted. A small victory, at least.

"Not for the reasons that you imagined. I hadn't anticipated running into you, and it wasn't exactly pleasant to do so."

"Now, that's rude," Alois pouted. "I should—"

"Alois! Focus!" Ciel said exasperatedly. "I don't even want to _know _what research you were doing on Alois, Mr. Faustus but for now, why were you running?"

The tapping fingers stopped, but they were still shaking. Sebastian had brought him the tea an eternity ago, but it was steaming away without anyone willing to pay attention to it.

"More of a 'who,' than a 'why' to be frank. I ran into someone when I bunkered down for the night. I assumed they were the owner of the building, wanting me out of the alley, but whoever he was knew my name. When I first tried to run, he grabbed me, or at least, tried to."

"How did you get out?"

"I punched him in the face. Usually, I'm not that strong, what with my lifestyle, but whether it was the adrenaline or anything else, I dodged the grab and knocked him out with one blow," Claude said. He massaged one hand with the other like he'd hurt it, but only Alois saw that. Ciel and Sebastian were exchanging panicked glances.

"And you came here? Why?" Sebastian asked, shoving panic away. Alois still watched them, and watched his knuckles turn white from

"I wanted to contact _you_, actually, as the only other adult in the situation. I didn't know whether anyone was following me. I didn't anticipate the boys to still be here."

"And now we're here, with more questions than we'd had, before. Great," Ciel grumbled. Alois wished Ciel and Sebastian wouldn't be so hostile towards Claude. He was only trying to help, wasn't he?

"Like it or not, I'm here now, and I can't imagine it was any more pleasant without me. I see Ciel's headache just there. I imagine dysphoria, déja vu, obtrusive thoughts, disturbing dreams would all accompany that. Even nausea at the thought," Claude listed off. Alois shivered. He'd hit the nail on the head, right there.

"I threw up the other day when someone called me—"

"'Your Highness?'" Claude cut in. Alois felt his stomach seize.

"Don't do that."

"Alright, how'd you know that?" Ciel demanded.

"Same way I knew your names. Lucky guess," he said. "I've gotten better at lucky guesses when they're on the subject of you people. It's to the point that it's downright subconscious. I open my mouth and the correct thing comes out. I already know, but I don't know I know it."

And those words right there were ones Alois had known, but hadn't known it. He leapt up, feeling light with an idea.

"Ciel, say something about me. Anything," he commanded. Ciel was too startled to disobey, but he stuttered for an exceedingly long time before blurting out, 'spider.' At this, he and Sebastian both back-pedalled and said 'what?' at the same time, but Claude nodded and Alois felt a surge of backwards recognition. He'd never given much thought to spiders, but now that he thought about it, they were probably a good idea.

"Keep going. Think of it like a word association," Claude said. Ciel looked at him like he was crazy, which probably wasn't wrong, but once he started talking it was hard to get him to stop.

"Spider. Suitcase. Ring," he said in a monotone, staring wide-eyed at Alois. "Costume. Soul. Luka. Jim. Claude…. Claude. I— gah!"

He gasped and collapsed to one knee, clutching his head. Alois almost did as well, but if he tried not to think about it, he could avoid it. _Jim_. He had never told Ciel his middle name and certainly had never intended to share the hateful thing at all.

"Ciel! Are you alright!" Sebastian asked, panicked. Claude moved like clockwork and disinterestedly pulled Ciel into a chair.

"Hannah and I were getting those daily. Every time we tried to do more research, we'd feel—"

"Like my head was collapsing in on itself," Ciel mumbled. "Do _not_ make me do that again."

"Indeed. You're not going to like it when I say this, but I'll have you know that I don't believe the forces at play are entirely what we're used to dealing with," Claude said gravely. He began shuffling through his pockets, cursing as he couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Just what do you mean by that?" Sebastian cut in, looking angry. Claude groaned and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. Those eyes, fidgeting with the glasses, that had been the kicker for Alois. Who Ciel had been attempting to draw that day in the lunch room didn't matter, but what he'd produced was Claude Faustus, long before meeting him.

"Forgive my ruining our good working relationship with things that aren't entirely sane, but do you believe in the supernatural, Mr. Michaelis?" Claude said, continuing his quest through his coat pockets. Alois wanted to cry. He didn't care anymore. Forget any more evidence, forget _proof_. Alois was right. Claude had said it, and Alois was done with dancing around the issue. He _had_ to be right.

That said, being right was almost worse, as much as he couldn't bear to be wrong again. Sebastian was even less pleased with the thought, and actually stepped backwards in fear.

"It's _Michaels_," was all he could get out. Although, was there a hint of instability? Claude sure thought so.

"I'm not so sure it is, Sebastian," he said. Sebastian narrowed his eyes and Claude straightened his glasses again.

"I've several more theories about what's happening, beyond the nonsense I just spouted so you all don't have to worry. But it's clear to me that you won't believe another word I say unless I've got some proof for it, which even I can't produce at will. I've given you no reason to trust me, but I've some books at the library I'd like to show you. For your own reassurance, it's a public place, but if you'd like it to _stay_ a neutral point, we'd better leave now so it'll be open, and so I won't have to break in," he said. Casual as if he'd invited them all out for coffee.

"Who do you think you are?" Ciel demanded. "Making offers like that? What's wrong with you?"

Claude fixed him with a stare that could have burned a hole in the wall.

"The same thing that's wrong with you, Ciel. I do not know who I am or what is happening to me," he said with gentle menace. "I'm certain my name is Claude Faustus, but the only piece of identification I still have on my person calls me someone else. I don't know who Claude Faustus is, other than that he is me, and I therefore do not know who I am. I've turned from Claude Flint _into_ Claude Faustus, so to speak."

Ciel gasped with something unidentifiable and negative, and Alois wondered what this would do it him. For the moment, it mostly just made him feel heavy. 'Truman' had never felt wrong, and as interesting as 'Michaelis' was, Sebastian was quite confident that it wasn't correct. But the words were intriguing, and convincing. Didn't this whole issue come down to a problem of self-doubt?

"What about whoever you were running from? Here I thought you were seeking shelter," Sebastian pointed out.

"The fact that they haven't come in here, guns blazing and ready to kill us all, is proof enough for me that they won't come after me if you three are around. Are we going, or no?" Claude asked. Ciel squeaked in outrage, and Sebastian looked downright murderous. Alois was sure he'd vomit again. The gravity in the room had increased an awful lot in not much time, and Alois wanted out.

"If you don't want to go, I can do it myself," Alois said quickly, standing up on shaky legs. Never mind that Claude was the sort of man who he'd initially been able to mistake for a pedophile, Alois didn't want him walking out that door alone. Ciel could see this and he threw his hands in the air in exasperation, looking even paler than Alois felt.

"Well, that's that. We all know you can't be trusted to go anywhere by yourself. Come on, Sebastian," he said. Sebastian looked at Claude, and Claude looked at Sebastian, and Alois could almost see the sparks jumping between their eyes.

"Very well. If Ciel's going, I'm going. If we have to break in anywhere, I'm calling the police on you," he warned. Claude rolled his eyes and played with a scrap of card, finally having found what he was looking for in his coat.

"You may yet change your mind, Michaelis. Lets go," he said.

Claude walked out the door first. Alois followed, and Ciel and Sebastian hung back, dragging their feet.

When the disaster struck, Alois knew time was supposed to slow down. At least, everyone always made references to time stopping in a catastrophe. But all that happened was a feeling of being strapped to a rocket, faster than ever before.

Alois watched Claude Faustus get as far as the curb and then take a bullet to the chest.

It was curious. He'd seen it in films more times than he could count. Thinking of it like a process, it was easy. The heart stops, the man dies. Easy. Once upon a time, he could probably have done it himself, if he had to.

He never wanted to, but he definitely could.

Seeing Claude's blood go spurting out at high speed was an entirely different thing. The man's dignified expression contorted into something no longer human, and the way he hit the ground could only described as the sound of the colour red, wet and heavy and disgusting.

Alois wanted to claw his eyes out until he never saw anything again, as long as he never, ever had to see that much red at once again.

And even though his mind could keep up with everything that was happening, it wasn't working well enough to act like it.

"Claude?"

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. He's not going to answer, Alois, and you know it._

Claude was wrong, it wasn't safe.

"Oh, shit," he heard Ciel curse. A voice at the bottom of a well. Alois took a step forward. Just one.

"Claude?"

_Stupid. Broken record, broken Alois. Stupid. _

_He's dead, Alois, and nothing you can do will change that. _

_"_Claude!"

And _then_ he was screaming, running over and kneeling in the red and cursing and cursing and cursing. He couldn't understand why he cared so goddamn much, but he _did_, and it hurt like the bullet took him down instead.

"Sebastian! Dial 999, _now_!" he heard Ciel call behind him. Commanding. In control. Perfect Ciel, in control.

He clutched at Claude's jacket, desperate for something solid to hang on to. He didn't know why he cared so much. He didn't know why he cared so much.

God, for one reason or another he cared about Claude, and he was dead or dying.

Dying.

Only dying. He pressed something into Alois' hand with what strength he could spare. The scrap of paper from before, useless to him now, but maybe Alois could make something better of it.

"Your Highness."

And two words from the lips of a bloodied man, and Alois wished they would make him throw up this time. Purge all the poison he'd been filled with, toss everything out until there was nothing left and he could crumple up in a ball and stop feeling.

But however much his stomach was set off, his mind was much worse, and maybe that was why he wouldn't be sick.

"Don't leave me alone, Claude."

What was he so worried about? He scarcely knew the man—

No, that was a lie. If he ever got his feet back on the ground and got his head pulled out of that haze of idiotic pain, he'd have to figure out why he said that.

And until he had his answers, Alois was sick and sad and scared, scared, scared.

And Claude's eyes were blank and he was dead with fear on his face.

"Don't leave me. Please, please don't leave me," he choked.

Ciel ran up behind him, and for once, Alois didn't want to talk to him.

"Alois, you have to get up. The police are coming. You have to get ahold of yourself," he said firmly, actually trying to pull Alois up. Alois knew he was pathetic. He always was. But he knew it was the worse he'd ever been, and he knew he could get up on his own.

He would not.

"I don't want this, Ciel! Go _away_!" he screamed. God, screaming hurt his throat, and he was glad it did.

"You have to get up, Alois!"

"I don't want to!"

And Ciel was pulling on his arm with all his oh-so-mighty strength. He was a fool. He could scarcely lift anything, and he wasn't going to lift Alois when Alois did not want to be lifted. He screamed obscenities and fought back until Sebastian came running out, precious useless ambulance already on the way, and between the two of them, they could just pull him away. And away and a away and away, the red was on his hands and he was sorry, but he didn't know why. All he knew is that he cared about Claude and not about the blinking lights that came for him, but through the haze of Ciel keeping his head and Alois failing to, he cared enough to read the paper Claude had given him.

_Ciel Phantomhive._

_Alois Trancy._

_Sebastian Michaelis._

The paper had red on it too.


	12. No One's Aftermath

**Allow me to preface this by saying that I am in no way sorry for what I did in the last update. **

The police tape was a particularly garish shade of yellow, and there was an awful lot of it. They had tossed it like streamers in a haphazard mess around Sebastian's shop.

How delightful.

Ciel wanted to scream. If it could have done him any good, he would have voiced his newfound contempt for the police forces of London. Useless, every one of them, and still they continued to yammer at him. The blanket they'd given him for the shock felt more and more like straitjacket as every question hit harder and harder.

He shook his head and looked up at the officer with the notebook. It didn't matter. Who cared?

Who could _ever_ give a damn?

He knew before he looked out the window that the body was gone. They took it away and looked awfully confused that someone so nameless had attracted his fate.

Ciel looked back again at the police officer hovering over his shoulder. What was his name, Kane? Officer Kane, but Ciel didn't care. He answered what he could, but it was hard just to open his mouth when he was so certain what would come out of it would either be vomit or a scream.

They hadn't even bothered asking Alois any questions. He was so hysterical that they'd called his parents in a hurry, once they'd gotten the blood off of him. The way they'd reacted, you'd think the police were the frightened ones.

"Kid. Kid?" Kane said. Ciel turned his attention to him and hoped to high hell that looks really could kill.

"Please address me by my name, sir. I have one for a reason," Ciel said flatly. Yes, it was much better not to cooperate.

"Jesus Christ, kid. _Ciel_," he corrected himself, finally. "Look, Ciel, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You were staring off into space, looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"I'm fine."

"Look, if you don't want me asking you any questions, it can wait. I know it's been rough, and—"

"I'm _fine_," Ciel hissed. He wanted to help them, and he didn't.

He didn't really know what he wanted, now that he thought about it. Maybe a little sleep.

"There's nothing you want?"

"Can I talk to Sebastian?" he asked. Kane stepped back a little and rubbed his bald spot sheepishly.

"He's a little tied up right now," he said.

"By _you_," Ciel retorted. "A little unprecedented to have— what was it, six officers on one man? Sebastian's a nervous man. You'll scare him to death."

Kane shuddered and muttered something about "_two_ officers."

"Six, two. Why do you care so much?" Ciel asked. "Claude was a nobody."

"It's _because_ Mr. Flint was a nobody that we're so worried. Second time in a week that we've got a homicide like this, you realize, no motive at all."

"It was Faustus," Ciel corrected automatically.

"Whatzat?"

"The identification he had on him was… not correct. By his own account, and I actually believe him, his name was Claude _Faustus_," Ciel said carefully. Kane eyed him suspiciously and scribbled some more in his notepad.

"I'm going to ask you about that later, but for now, we have bigger problems. The size of the bullet wound on Mr. 'Faustus'—" here he actually did air quotes. What a prat. "— suggests that someone made the shot, from up on the roof if Mr. Michaels is right, mind you, with a very small handgun. Needless to say, that's a tricky shot to make in one go, and it seems like a lot of effort for the circumstances. So I gotta ask, did Mr. Faustus tell you anything about what he was doing?"

"He might've mentioned something. He said he'd had an encounter with someone earlier that night when he'd tried to sleep on their premises, but that's all."

Even if Ciel could tell this officer everything without fear of being hauled off to a madhouse, he wasn't sure what he would say. He knew why Claude had a target on his back, but he didn't know who had pinned it there. That'd never help anyone.

"Why come to you people then? Did he know you?"

See? Useless!

"No. I already told you, I'd never seen him before. He'd run into Alois once on the train, pure happenstance, and once he was in the neighbourhood he saw him again. Must've thought he'd seen a friendly face. God knows he could use one around here. You've seen the neighbours?"

When Kane shuddered at the thought of Undertaker, who for all Ciel knew would've tried to inspect Claude's body himself, Ciel almost laughed.

"But you just let him in? I mean, Alois…" he trailed off, trying to find polite words to describe Alois. "I get that he was cut up after the murder, and frankly I'm surprised he's the only one, but if they met by chance, I'd be awfully nervous about inviting him in for a cup of tea."

"He wasn't armed or anything. Alois took pity on him, practically brought him in like a lost dog. Faustus was clearly mentally ill, and having... having each had problems of our own, bad history in terms of our mental health, it wasn't hard to have a little sympathy. He needed help. You'll find in the autopsy nothing in his stomach except what we'd given him. He hadn't eaten in two days, for God's sake. We were just ready to send him on his way, a little better for wear, when he was shot. We don't know why, and we really didn't see much. We're as confused as you are."

Now, why _did_ he lie like this? Sure, some details were nothing the police force would believe, or if they did they'd have his mother throw him in therapy, but what was the harm in telling them that they were going to accompany Claude to the library?

"Forgive me for saying this, but your comment about Claude Flint's name intrigues me. If he was mentally ill, and I'm not even going to ask about that, then how can you be sure of his statement that his name was Faustus?" the police officer asked. Ah. This was why. Useless.

"I'm sure because it was one of the only sane things he said all night. The man was _halfway_ out of his mind," Ciel lied. Claude was _completely_ mad, but so was everyone else involved.

Kane stared for an exceedingly long time.

"Listen, Ciel. Claude was no one. Anonymous. He had one driver's permit in his pocket that expired a year ago, and beyond that, we can't find anything. No family, no place of residence, not even an email address. We're still trying, but you have to realize that the odds are good that _Flint_ isn't even his name."

"It's not. His name is Faustus."

"You've said it already," Kane groaned. "I just don't know whether we can get anywhere with the evidence that he himself provided. You three were the last people he talked to, and your little friend is so much more torn up than you generally see from strangers' deaths. I mean, anyone would be upset seeing what they saw, especially at your age, but twenty years in this job and I've never seen anyone react quite like him. I just feel like there's something here that we're missing, and I'm not accusing you of withholding evidence, of course, but either your friend knew him, or you should really get him some help. Actually, you should help him for sure either way if he's upset, but—"

"You want something helpful? Hannah Annafellows. He knew her, and _she's_ dead too," Ciel said. Anything to get the topic way from Alois and stop that moron's babbling. The police officer groaned again and rubbed his eyes.

"We knew that. The letter that clued us into who she was was signed, '_kindest regards, Claude_.' Of course, _now_ we could guess who Claude was since it looks like the same person shot them both."

'Kindest regards.' Such as stiff way to communicate, and it felt very correct for Claude.

"Are we looking at a serial killer, then?" Ciel asked pointedly. The officer scoffed nervously.

"You watch too much television, Ciel. It's rarely anything so dramatic. Those two were as unattached as a person can be these days, except to each other. If there's any reason for someone else to be killed along with them, we haven't thought of it."

Ciel couldn't choke back a nervous chuckle. If Claude and Hannah were dead, Sebastian was probably next. 'The only other adult,' as Claude had put it.

"Something funny?"

"Oh yes. You," Ciel retorted. In a way, it was kind of true. What was funny was how wrong he was.

Kane chewed his lip and regarded Ciel. What he saw was probably a cynical little idiot of a kid, desensitized to the murder from too much television and video games. What he and everyone else failed to see, could never see, was Ciel's crushing, overwhelming sense of having seen it all before. If Claude had been part of their same group, the doppelgängers in Will the Reaper and every dream they'd had, the other Claude Faustus had met a bloody end too. Alois saw it. There was no way he didn't see it, not when all he could do was cry about how sorry he was.

Why did they think he wanted to see Sebastian so much? He had to know someone sane felt the same way he did.

"You said your mum's coming?" Kane asked suddenly, cutting through Ciel's thoughts.

"I did. If she's not here yet, she will be within ten minutes."

"Alright. I'm going to leave you alone for a little while, 'kay?" he asked, like he was talking to a child. Of course, he was, but it didn't make Ciel feel any less patronized.

"Fine," Ciel responded shortly. Kane seemed to hesitate, nodding a little uneasily, and he shuffled off with something that might have been "see ya."

"Oh, and one more thing?" Kane added, hand on the door.

"Yes?"

"You know anything about why his nails were painted like that? Just seems a bit odd."

Ciel shook his head. This time he wasn't lying; Claude was not clear. Kane looked disappointed, but nodded; Ciel watched him go, and then saw him reappear again soon enough outside Sebastian's window.

"We're not getting anywhere with that brat. Poor kid's halfway outta his mind," he heard Kane say to one of the detectives, muffled through the window. Ciel didn't think they thought he would listen, or even could, but he did. He pulled the window up a fraction and watched the three who were there chatter on and on.

"Jesus, him too? Poor bastard. Well, at least he's better off than that poor blond. What was his name? Lois or something?"

"_Alois_ was what I heard. What's with these fucking kids' names anyway?"

"Who cares? All I wanna know is why they were here in the first place. Shouldn't've seen a murder, not at their age, not ever."

"The fellow who picked up Alois said they were hanging with the shop owner. Just having a chat and a cup of tea."

"What, like they were friends? What the hell?"

"He teaches the bratty one violin."

"Oy vey. No wonder they're all half-bonkers. He gives me the _creeps_."

"It's the stare. All hungry-like."

"Hell, he kept fucking _mumbling_ to himself. Blondie may have been the one being sick all over his shoes, but mark my words, that Michaels fellow is the crazy one."

"I dunno, Donnie. That kid seemed pretty torn up. You're _sure_ he didn't know the vic personally?"

"God, I don't even know anymore. It didn't seem like it, but between all the kid was screaming it was hard to tell. Kept muttering that he 'didn't want to be left alone,' whatever that meant. I swear. Complete nutters, all of them, but especially that one."

"Payne said they'd met before. Just once, on the tube of all places."

"Matt, that makes it more confusing, not less. And whatever happened to the normal cases, you know?"

"Ha. Don't I know it."

Two lit cigarettes, and they shuffled off to disparage more people, or so Ciel thought. It seemed appropriate.

He couldn't breathe so well inside anymore. Like he said, the blanket was clearly some sort of straitjacket. He shoved it off as best as he could and buried his hands in his pockets. What officers were left in the room were still too busy tormenting Sebastian to notice him go. All he needed was a little fresh air, or so he told himself. Just a little air.

He walked out, and even though he knew his mother was coming, he kept going. He kept going until he hit the end of the block, and only the knowledge of Rachel Payne and how she would worry made him turn away from the night. When he returned, he saw someone; maybe they'd been there before and he'd been too wrapped up in himself to notice, but once there he noticed a familiar redhead and stiff.

Ciel didn't care who saw. He pushed his way past the detective Spears was fighting with and the trainee Sutcliff was hitting on and opened his own damned mouth.

"Why don't you stupid bastards just butt out?" he spat. They all looked up like they'd been shocked, and the panicking trainee went into damage control mode.

"Mr. Payne! What are you doing out here? Are you okay? You should be resting," he babbled, putting his hands on Ciel's shoulders like he thought it would help. Ciel shook them off, cursing the feeling of being touched, and stood his ground. Spears looked from Ciel and back to his debate opponent, easily the calmest one there, and very politely told the officer, "We can finish this discussion later. On your terms, if it helps." The officer shuddered and Spears stared him down. Sutcliff looked deeply disappointed, but she shooed her latest victim away all the same.

"You've got some nerve, Ciel," she said. Ciel wondered how much she _would_ say. Even if they had stopped talking to them, the police officers were still trying to coax Ciel back inside.

"So do you, showing up here! I'm tired of seeing you skulking around! You're no bloody help to anyone!"

"Mr. Payne, if we're to discuss this any further, we'll need to do it in private," Spears cut in. He glared pointedly at the police officers, and at least they took those idiotic GR stories seriously. They left in a hurry.

"I don't care if they hear. Don't act like you couldn't've stopped this," Ciel hissed. "_Grell_."

Spears whipped his head around faster than Ciel would've believed.

"Undertaker's fault," she said immediately. "I _told_ you we should've taken him into custody."

Spears groaned audibly and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"And we're stuck on overtime as it is," he muttered. Ciel wanted to shake them.

"Don't ignore me! You could've stopped this, couldn't you?" he demanded. Suddenly, the ground became very interesting to the agents.

"Well—"

"Couldn't you?"

"I don't know," Spears said shortly. "Faustus was a wild card, someone we didn't even know existed until Annafellows was killed. He wasn't someone we had any means of keeping track—"

"Like hell! Didn't you say you were the government?"

"Do you honestly still believe that?" Spears deadpanned. Ciel was silenced for a moment, his certainty actually confirmed.

"No," he admitted. Spears nodded and crossed his arms.

"We're a third party, but we're not here to oppose you. We can help you," he said quietly. "We don't want any more people dead before their time."

"Can you just _tell_ me what's happening? Then I can decide for myself whether I'm going to fucking trust you."

The two of them seemed to have some sort of silent argument for a moment; Sutcliff and Spears communicated something though a procession of confused hand gestures and increasingly exasperated facial expressions, but eventually they both told him, "no."

"Why the hell not?"

"We don't know if it's safe, kid," Sutcliff admitted. "And before you start throwing your ego around like a diva again, I'll have you know it's nothing personal. It's not a question of your being a child, it's—"

"Don't lie to me! I know you'd tell Sebastian if he asked," Ciel snarled. Her face went as red as her hair

"Don't make assumptions about things you don't know everything about, boy," she said with delicate venom. "I'm much better at this than you give me credit for, and I'm not about to get demoted again for anyone, even him."

Ciel stared, feeling the numb, cold exhaustion of the last hour or so boil over into anger.

"So you're not telling me anything?" he asked. He wouldn't beg for anything, but on the inside, he was praying for something, anything, to give.

"Not now, we're certainly not," Stucliff confirmed.

"Then go to hell!" Ciel shouted. They knew everything. He knew they knew. Faustus? No one could have told them that, and still they failed.

"Is that so, Payne?" Spears said.

"Don't think I don't mean it. I don't need you. I'll figure this out on my own, and you two can go. To. _Hell_," Ciel spat. "God knows, you deserve it at this rate."

"You'd know, Payne," Sutcliff said haughtily. Spears cuffed her over the ear, and regarded both of them with the purest contempt.

'Well," he said. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. We'll certainly endeavour to stay out of your way."

"I'll stay out of yours," Ciel said evenly.

"I will say you're making a mistake while we're still here, though," Spears warned.

"I'll keep that in mind! Now get out of my face!" Ciel shouted. Further harsh words were spared from both parties by the whirlwind appearance of Rachel Payne.

"Ciel! Ciel, are you alright?" she called. She was being escorted by Kane, but she ran ahead and smothered Ciel in a hug. For a second, he was glad. He was ready to break down, be comforted. For a second, he knew he was safe.

But he remember everyone who was there, so his eyes were dry when he assured her that he was okay.

"Thank God you're safe," she whispered. "I'm going to take you home. We can go home, okay?"

"Okay. I'm okay," he whispered, and his voice almost broke.

"It's okay," she said back, and she straightened up with one protective arm around his shoulders and one gently on his hair.

"Can I take my son home?" she asked, although she addressed Sutcliff and Spears. They danced around uncomfortably at the question, realizing everyone might know they'd been chatting with the poor, unfortunate witness.

"Don't ask us. We're not in charge," Spears said stiffly. He pushed up his glasses with his pen and nudged Sutcliff for them to leave. She had an odd, slack expression of recognition on her face.

"Um…." she began nervously. His mother had almost turned to leave, but she stopped and regarded the strange sight that was Grell Sutcliff.

"Yes? Is it me you're after, Miss…?" she answered delicately. Rachel knew a fed when she saw one, or something that looked like one. But Sutcliff shuffled around like she was the nervous one.

"Sutcliff. _Agent_ Gretchen Sutcliff. Do pardon my being so forward, darling, but have we met? You look awfully familiar," she asked. Spears looked ready to go into conniptions, but Rachel just shrugged.

"I don't think so. I hope I'm not being rude, but I would've remembered," she said, gesturing at the way the ladies' suit didn't quite fit. Sutcliff took it in stride and tossed her equally-memorable hair.

"Gosh, no need to compliment me," she giggled. "But are you sure? You don't have a sister or anything, do you?"

"I'm an only child, ma'am."

Sutcliff frowned and nodded.

"But that's that, then," she muttered. "Sorry to bother you. And that's a lovely coat, by the way. The colour suits you."

Rachel stiffened, and then spread out the red wool of the coat like she'd never seen it before. Ciel couldn't help resenting the hungry way Sutcliff looked at it.

"Thank you I suppose," she said softly. "Ciel, you want to go home, right?"

"Yes, mum."

"Mrs. Payne? Just so you know, we'll likely want to call your son back in. Him being a witness and all," said Kane. Rachel began to talk business with him, and Ciel watched the GR agents walk off into a corner. They seemed to be fighting again, but Ciel wondered if he was even in a state to tell the difference anymore.

"Ciel? Sweetie, let's go home," Rachel said. She began to pull him along, and he went stumbling after. He stumbled all the way to the car.

"Ciel, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You've just been so quiet," she said in a hushed voice. If anything, that made him want to speak less, but he fought through it.

"I didn't see very much. It was scary, but I'm alright," he forced out. The silence hung between them, and he knew she wanted to much more.

"Alois is in a bit of a bad spot, though," Ciel said. Rachel nodded slowly.

"His parents called me right after the police did. Is he alright?"

"He's just frightened. He was right there when it happened. If anything, that's why I kept my head. He needed someone to stay in control for him…" Ciel said, and then trailed off. He couldn't tell her about Claude. He wouldn't.

"Yes, he seems like the sort, I guess. Seemed a bit odd, although I wouldn't have said anything if something hadn't happened. I just hope he's alright."

"Me too."

"Mm-hm."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, mum," Ciel mumbled. "I'm tired."

Rachel's eyes widened a little in fear, and she nodded.

"Whatever you say. You should try and call your friend, though. Make sure he's okay."

"Right."

* * *

><p>Ciel didn't want to talk to his father when he got home. Or maybe he couldn't. The man was standing right there, but Ciel ran past him, ran and slammed the door behind him, and his hands were shaking so much he had to dial the number three times.<p>

"Pick up," he whispered. The buzz behind the screen went once, twice, five times.

"Pick _up_, dammit! Alois!" he shouted. The phone ignored his pathetic words, going straight to Alois' tinny little voicemail. Ciel was too tired to leave a message, but he had enough energy to throw the phone down on the bed with all his strength.

He hadn't cried all evening. Not when he'd seen Alois break, not when he'd seen a dead man, not when he'd seen Sebastian finally look as scared as he and Alois were; he'd made a point of not crying in front of those smug bastards in the glasses. But now the tears were falling.

**I don't know anything about how police deal with bystanders in murder cases, but I think you'll excuse inaccuracies in light of the fact that it's probably the most realistic part of a piece of supernatural fiction. In other news, I got the pictures up! post/105813685988/a-couple-modern-black-butler-characters-for-my**

**I'll do more if you're interested. Sorry for the crappy picture quality.**

**Oh, and Happy Holidays!**


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